


MFEO (Pt. 1 - Made For Each Other)

by thebestcoast



Series: MFEO [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 94,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebestcoast/pseuds/thebestcoast
Summary: A look into the lives of fourteen high school seniors as they say goodbye.(I found this on my old computer as I was clearing it off. It was written about seven years ago, and it has not been edited or beta read. Be gentle.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jack's Mannequin song of the same name.
> 
> Rating at Mature mostly because of the amount of cursing and the occasional grinding session.)

**August 2012**

     Ashlee Simpson walked slowly down the hallway of Wilmington High School.  To say she was nervous was an understatement.  She had only just graduated from the University of Chicago when she got the call from her alma mater.  The principal had asked if she was willing to come in and teach a music class for them on short notice.  She’d jumped at the chance.  Not only was it a job, but it was a music job, which was exactly what Ashlee had wanted in the first place.  Her boyfriend had been sharing the couch with her when she got the job, and he laughed along with her when she jumped up on the cushions to do a victory dance.  Now, the victory dance seemed far away, and her stomach was in knots.  She was right by the music room at this point, but she couldn’t bring herself to open the doors.  Once upon a time, she couldn’t wait to get inside, but that was the sixteen year old Ashlee.  She took a deep breath, straightened her blouse, and turned the knob.

     No one noticed Ashlee at first, and she used the opportunity to slip into her office.  She set her bags on the bare desk and gave herself a little pep talk.  It was difficult to concentrate though because the kids in the next room were rambunctious, and that worried her slightly.  Maybe they would hate her.  That would suck, she thought, just suck.  At least it was Friday, and she had the weekend to recover.  Since school started on Monday, it only made sense to go ahead and have her seniors audition for the choir and band before classes began. She took one more long breath and left her office.  She began walking towards the front, and the conversation died slowly.  By the time Ashlee reached the top of the class, the room was silent.

     “Hi everyone, my name is Ashlee Simpson.  You all can call me Ashlee because Ms. Simpson is my mother.  I’m pretty sure this is my senior class,” she paused, and a few students nodded, “right, so, I’m not sure how the last teacher did things, but I thought we’d start today off with some auditions.  I’ll post the results tonight if you’d like to come check the list.” Ashlee looked at the faces in front of her and wondered if they had even heard her.  Finally, one student spoke, and she couldn’t have been more grateful.

     “Hello, Ashlee,” one of the boys stood, “My name is Pete, and on behalf of my less attractive classmates, I’d like to welcome you to the class.  Also, are you dating anyone, because you are smoking hot!”  Ashlee wanted to laugh, but she knew it was inappropriate to speak to a teacher that way.  The black haired boy grinned and crossed his slight arms. He had one of the biggest and whitest smiles she’d ever seen.  She was about to reply when the young man next to Pete pulled him down into his seat.

     “I’d like to apologize for my friend.  He’s an idiot.  I’m Patrick Stump, and I’ll be attempting to keep him in check,” he finished, and the class laughed.  Ashlee liked both of the boys immediately.  They seemed very different, which balanced them out.  Patrick smiled at her from under his bright orange hat.

     “Okay, well, thank you for the warm welcome, and for the record, I do have a boyfriend.  Keep it in line, Pete.”  He saluted her along with another grin, which she answered with her own smile.  “I think we should go ahead and get started.  Can I see all the guitarists first? After that I’ll want the bassists, percussion, brass, and so on.  Actually, wait, does anyone want to audition for more than one area?”  Only two boys raised their hands, and one she already knew:  Patrick.  Okay, let me get you two first, then.  I’ll call for the guitarists after.  Everyone can go wait in the hall and study… or just sit there and socialize, which I’m sure will be your choice.  Just keep it down.  I don’t need anyone coming to yell at me.”  Everyone but the two boys filed out the door, Pete last, calling out to his friend, “good luck, Trick!  You are so beautiful to me…” he sang on the way out.  Patrick rolled his eyes, but laughed all the same.

     “Alright, are you two okay auditioning in front of each other?”  They both nodded.  “Good, now what will you be auditioning for?”  Patrick spoke first.

     “Uh, anything really, I’ll play just about anything,” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Ashlee frowned. 

     “Me too,” the other boy spoke.  He had dark brown hair and matching wide eyes, and he seemed equally as uncomfortable.  They seemed embarrassed that they were talented, which made no sense to her.

     “Anything?  What do you play?”  She asked. The boys shared a look, and she could tell they knew each other well from the way they spoke.

     “We sing, play the piano, drums, guitar, Brendon plays the bass,” Patrick began, motioning towards the other boy.

     “There’s the saxophone, violin, I play the cello, and Patrick is awesome on the ukulele,” Brendon finished.  Ashlee stood stunned.

     “You play all that?  That’s incredible.  I’d love to hear you sing first.  Brendon?  Would you like to start?”  Brendon nodded, and stood for her, while she took a nearby seat.

     “Anything in particular?” he asked.  Ashlee shook her head, excited.  She really hoped he was good.  He opened his mouth and began singing, and she recognized the song as “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John.  He sang a verse and the chorus for her before stopping.  Well, he wasn’t good. He was amazing; she couldn’t believe the voice coming out of the skinny boy in front of her.

     “My god, Brendon that was wonderful.” Brendon smiled brightly at her.

     “Thanks, Bren.  I have to follow that.”  Brendon rolled his eyes and sat back down.

     “Whatever Stump, as if you’re not way better,” he said, but Patrick didn’t acknowledge the compliment. He adjusted his hat and began singing a song Ashlee didn’t recognize.  As soon as he was done, she had to force herself not to stand and clap, feeling like she’d just watched a concert.

     “Wow, just wow.  What song was that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

     “It’s a song from the band I’m in.  We don’t have a name yet, but it’s me, Pete, Andy and Joe.  We’ve been playing together since eighth grade, so we have a lot of songs just sitting around.”  Ashlee smiled brightly.  These two gave her hope that the rest of the auditions were going to be wonderful.

     “Okay, now about those instruments…”

\---

     Ashlee was exhausted.  She had sat through at least sixty kids auditioning.  She was now faced with making the cuts, and she hated that she couldn’t take them all, but some of the auditions were just awful.  After Brendon and Patrick had blown her away, she sat through some of the worst auditions she’d ever seen.  In each of the groups, she had found some of the shining stars of the class.  In the guitarists, there had been Joe Trohman, whose wild hair had caught her attention first, and Ryan Ross, a tall, skinny-as-a-rail boy with an intense stare and a resting bitch face, which was a trait she shared with him, unfortunately.  After that had been the bassists, and she was happy to find that Pete Wentz was one of her top students, as was Jon Walker, whom she liked the second he began, and where Pete was a little over the top, Jon was incredibly laid back.

     Percussion followed, which is where Ashlee found Andy Hurley, all long hair and tattoos, which he didn’t look nearly old enough to have, and Spencer Smith, another boy she found hard not to like, despite the intense sass he’d given from the moment he walked in.  On the piano, she had a blond named Greta, who completely blew her away, and a brunette named Victoria with equal talent, who was also adamant that she perform on the keytar for her, too.  Then there were her singers.  Gabe, who was a ball of energy from minute one, had surprised her by singing in Spanish, and then there was Travis who rapped for her instead of singing, which she had loved.  She was glad to also find William, who may have rivaled Ryan for skinniest person she’d ever seen, and a fiery redhead, Hayley, who had a powerhouse of a voice.  All in all, she had some amazing talent in her class.

     As soon as she posted the lists on the outside door, she headed home to enjoy an evening with her wonderful boyfriend in their tiny apartment in town... and to freak out about her next day in music class.

\---

     “Jon… Jon… Jon… JON!”  Jon Walker woke up to a very bouncy, very loud Brendon Urie on the edge of his bed at five in the afternoon.

     “You could sleep through anything, Jonathon,” Brendon said, jumping off the bed.  Jon groaned; all he wanted was to catch up on some sleep, and he’d crashed as soon as auditions were over that morning.  He had to work two jobs in order to keep his apartment because after he had been emancipated at sixteen, it was up to him to take care of himself.  He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for a full eight hours in the past two years. But he’d rather have to run on four hours of sleep a day than live with his waste of a father, who’d essentially given up taking care of Jon by the time he was ten. He could hear Brendon rummaging through his bookshelf, looking at his small collection of DVDs.

     “After we go check the list, we should watch this,” Brendon said, throwing _Almost Famous_ down on the bed.  It was one of Brendon’s favorites, which Jon knew because they watched it almost every time they were together.

     “Why are we checking the list?  It’s a given that you made it, and you made me audition,” Jon said, throwing his covers off and pushing away from his bed.

     “That’s not true!  I might have not made it,” Brendon said, still digging through the bookshelf.  Jon snorted, “Whatever,” and headed to the kitchen.  He rounded the corner and dug through his refrigerator full of old takeout for a water bottle.  He finally located one stuck behind the nearly empty milk.  He had just popped the cap off when Brendon came into sight.  He looked sad, and Jon could only think of one thing that could elicit that reaction.

     “You miss them, don’t you?”  Brendon asked.  Jon sighed and put his water down when he spotted a folded picture in Brendon’s hands.  _Damn._   Jon didn’t need to see it to know that Brendon had found it stuffed inside his copy of _The Beautiful and Damned_.  He didn’t know why the hell Brendon was rooting through his school books, but he had to have known it was there. It was of Jon, Spencer and Ryan in eighth grade standing under the Bean.  (Pete and Patrick were in the background attempting to shove William on top of the thing.  Gabe held a camcorder in his hand, trying to capture the moment.) It had been on a field trip for their science class.  Jon and Ryan stood on either side of Spencer, who was grinning like it was the best day of his life.  At the time, it had been, for all of them.  Even Ryan, with the eternal frown, had a bright smile on his face.  The boys had spent the day messing around Chicago while avoiding their teacher at all costs.

     “Bren…”  Brendon shook his head.

     “It’s okay if you do, you were best friends since kindergarten,” Brendon said, “You shouldn’t have to hide it from me.”  Jon hated this.  He wished they could all just go back to the first day they’d met Brendon and fix it all.

     “Bren, you’re my best friend, okay?”  Brendon nodded, coming into the kitchen.

     “And you’re mine, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with whoever you want.”  Jon shook his head, knowing that Brendon meant what he said, but if he was friends with them again, Brendon would eventually isolate himself from Jon, unable to face Ryan and Spencer.

     “I can’t forgive Ryan for what he did to you, and I can’t forgive Spencer for siding with him.”

     “Okay, but you can still miss them,” Brendon said.  He pulled a magnet from a random pizza place off the fridge and stuck the picture to the corner of the freezer.    They stood in silence for a while, staring at the picture before Brendon spoke again.

     “Come on, let’s go check the list,” he said, less cheery than before, and walked over to the door.  Jon didn’t argue this time.

\---

     “Hey, Ryan?  Do you want something to drink?”  Spencer called from his kitchen.  Ryan called something back to him, but he didn’t hear him, so Spencer just grabbed the nearest thing to him.  He came back into the living room where Ryan sat on the couch.  He tossed the bottle of orange juice at Ryan. He caught it, giving Spencer a confused look, but opened it nonetheless. 

     “So, do you want to go check the list?” Spencer asked, but Ryan just shrugged.

     “I guess,” Ryan started.  Spencer sighed loudly.

     “Okay, what is it?” Spencer asked him, but Ryan shrugged again and took a long drink out of the bottle.

     “Do you remember the day that Brendon moved here?”  Spencer groaned internally, thinking, _here we go_ again, and thought back.  Yeah, he definitely remembered it because Ryan had spent the entire day fawning over the new boy in school.  At lunch, he had explained why he and the unnamed boy were meant to be to Spencer and Jon.  Jon happened to have a class with him and informed Ryan that his name was Brendon, and for the rest of lunch, Spencer endured Ryan’s obsession with Brendon’s name and why it was the best name ever.

     “Yeah, what made you think of that?”

     “I don’t know.  I think about it a lot.”  Spencer could never get Ryan to move past Brendon.  The whole thing had started so perfectly, only to end horribly three days everything later. They met Brendon on a Tuesday, and Ryan invited him to a party at William Beckett’s house that Friday, and it seemed that Ryan’s fascination was reciprocated.  While Spencer was still fuzzy on the details of the party, given his alcohol intake, he did remember the night ending abruptly and in tears.

 

**November 2009**

     Ryan, Spencer, and Jon were crowded in William’s house along with the majority of the freshman class, which could fit in William’s mansion sized home.  They had finally made it to the kitchen where Gabe, Will, Pete, and Patrick were doing a shot together.

     “Boys!  Come drink with us,” Pete shouted above the music, slipping his arm around Patrick’s shoulders.  William was already pulling more shot glasses into a line, and Spencer guessed that having college aged friends must be nice when they would buy your alcohol for you.  Jon reached for two and passed one to Spencer.  Spencer felt Jon’s fingers on his for a moment, and… he didn’t like to think about any of that.  After they all had a glass, Gabe counted them down, and then threw the drink back.

     “When do you think Brendon will be here?” Ryan asked Spencer as quietly as he could, and Spencer rolled his eyes.

     “Chill, Ry.  He’ll be here!”  Jon snickered next to Spencer, knowing exactly what the two were talking about. It was the only thing that Ryan had been able to talk about since he’d invited Brendon to the party.

     It wasn’t until a half an hour later that Brendon showed up, a little overdressed and very anxious.  He wove through the people crowded in William’s house, looking for Ryan.  Brendon honestly couldn’t believe that Ryan had asked him to the party because he was probably the best looking person Brendon had ever seen, and he had wanted _Brendon_ at the party.  He was more than excited, and when he finally found Ryan, he was in the kitchen, a red solo cup in his hand, and his legs dangling over the edge of the counter he sat on.

     “Ryan!”  Brendon waved to the boy.  Ryan’s eyes moved quickly over the group of people in the kitchen, met Brendon’s, and he jumped down from the counter, though a little too gangly to do it gracefully. Ryan made it to Brendon and grabbed a drink for him as well on his way.

     “Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” Ryan said, handing the drink over.  Brendon took it, and though he’d never drank alcohol before, having been raised in a strict household, he wasn’t about to refuse Ryan.  Brendon saw him mouth something, but didn’t hear it, so he shook his head in confusion and leaned forward. Ryan moved closer, and Brendon could feel Ryan’s breath on his ear.  He didn’t realize he was holding his own breath until that moment.

     “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”  Brendon nodded and allowed Ryan to pull him by the wrist outside.  They passed the pool and hot tub, both of which were full of people, over to a small bench under the willow trees in William’s backyard.  The boys sat together, and Brendon began to drink quickly, which was burning his throat, but he wanted to impress the lanky boy next to him.  Before he knew it, he had knocked back three cups, and he and Ryan were just giggling over nothing.  Ryan ran two clumsy fingers over Brendon’s mouth.

     “You have big lips,” he said, and Brendon was almost upset until Ryan finished with, “I like them.”  Brendon didn’t know if he was choking on air or what, but he did know that he wanted to kiss Ryan.  Brendon nodded and thought about saying thank you, but suddenly Ryan was leaning towards him, and Brendon didn’t know what to do. Yeah, he’d kissed a girl before, thank you very much, but not a boy despite wanting to.

     “Wait,” Brendon pressed his hand against Ryan’s chest.  Ryan looked distraught at the idea of rejection, but Brendon corrected himself quickly.  “Not here,” he said, and Ryan looked around them, deciding quickly that Brendon was worth more than a sloppy kiss in front of their classmates.  He stood and held out his hand, which Brendon was quick to accept.  Ryan led him back into the house, up the stairs, and inside the last door on the right.  Brendon was pretty sure in his drunken haze that it was William’s bedroom, which he hoped Bill didn’t show up because he wouldn’t like finding them making out in his room.  Ryan locked the door behind them, and then he was on Brendon, clumsy and sloppy.  Brendon let Ryan push him down on the bed, but decided to initiate the kiss himself, and he pushed up to meet Ryan.  Ryan’s lips were thinner than his and felt slippery, but he didn’t know if that was his lips or Ryan’s.  Once they fell into a rhythm, Ryan pressed Brendon onto his back, lying with just his chest on top of him, and continued sucking on his bottom lip.  It was quickly becoming Ryan’s favorite part of Brendon.  That changed quickly, however, when Ryan reached for the bottom of Brendon’s shirt and met his pale stomach.

     Brendon was in heaven, and if all he ever did for the rest of his life was kiss Ryan, he wouldn’t have kissed him enough.  After his shirt was gone, he decided that it was only fair that Ryan’s was next.  And, okay, _now_ , Brendon was in heaven.  He jerked his hips up accidentally, but was glad he did because Ryan was hard against him.  He thrust up again on purpose, but this time was met with Ryan’s own push, and a new rhythm set between the two boys. All Brendon could think was, _Ryan, Ryan, Ryan._

      “Bren,” Ryan murmured against his lips, and Brendon smiled in response.  Ryan moved his hands Brendon’s belt and sat back on his heels, straddling the boy.

     “Is this okay?” he asked, even as he was pulling the belt buckle open.  Brendon breathed out an agreement, wanting nothing more than to get closer to Ryan. He’d only known him a couple days, but he was gone on him already. Ryan was breathing heavily and leaned down to kiss Brendon quickly.  When his pants were gone and Brendon was left in his briefs, he felt oddly sober.  He was about to have sex with Ryan, and he was freaking out about it in the best way possible.  Ryan just stared at him from his place above him, and Brendon felt a little too exposed and self-conscience being the only one half naked.  He began squirming, and Ryan just smiled sweetly down at him.

     “You’re really, really gorgeous,” Ryan said quietly, almost to himself, and Brendon couldn’t stand it anymore.  He pulled Ryan back down on top of him, bodies flush against each other as they kissed again. Ryan’s jeans felt rough against his legs, and he needed them gone, needed them to be on the same level.  When Ryan felt Brendon pulling on his jeans, he stopped and pulled back suddenly.

     “Fuck, wait,” Ryan groaned, and Brendon’s eyes went wide.  No, had he done something wrong?  Brendon was beginning to freak out, thinking he’d made a mistake, but Ryan quickly kissed Brendon again.

     “No, no, I don’t have anything,” he said, trying to calm the dark haired boy, “just stay here.”  Ryan forced himself to look away from Brendon’s swollen mouth and drunk, glazed eyes.

     “Okay,” he said, kissing Brendon once more, “I’ll be right back.”  Brendon watched Ryan pull his shirt back on, backwards, and dash out the door, closing it behind him.  Brendon smiled, glad he hadn’t ruined anything and closed his eyes, waiting for Ryan to return.  He could feel himself hardening the entire time Ryan had been kissing him, but he hadn’t touched himself yet.   He didn’t want to ruin it by coming too early, but he needed relief, dammit, and it felt like Ryan was going to be gone forever.  He palmed himself, trying to stay as quiet as possible, and he wanted Ryan back on top of him as soon as possible. He continued moving against his hand when the door opened.  Finally, Ryan was… Brendon heard laughing.  His eyes snapped open and found a doorway full of people, and Ryan was there, pushing to the front.  Brendon was so mortified that he couldn’t breathe, and he felt completely paralyzed.

     “Ryan, already got the new boy in bed!” a voice called from the group, but he couldn’t see who it was.  Brendon felt his eyes watering, but couldn’t cry, not in front of all these people.  The lump forming in his throat was threatening to choke him.  Ryan was still frozen in the doorway, making no move to help Brendon. He couldn’t believe that Ryan had gone through so much trouble to embarrass him.  And for what?  Popularity?  Was bedding Brendon going to make Ryan king of his new school? Was this just a cruel joke that he and his stupid friends wanted to play on the new kid?  Brendon didn’t know when he started moving, but he already had his legs sliding into his jeans while the crowd at the door was still laughing, and finally Ryan was moving towards Brendon.  But it wasn’t Ryan that reached him first, it was Jon.  Jon was grabbing Brendon’s shoes and shirt, and pulling Brendon into his side before Ryan could even touch him.

     “Brendon,” Ryan exhaled, reaching for the boy, but Jon passed him without even a look, keeping Brendon tucked under his arm. Brendon hid his face in Jon’s shoulder as he pushed them through the group.  Spencer appeared in front of Jon, and he looked confused and full of concern.  He came towards them, but Brendon heard Jon’s voice stop him.

     “Don’t.”  It was so calm and frightening that Spencer stopped dead.  Brendon could still hear everyone laughing as Jon pushed him along the sidewalk, trying to get him home as fast as he could. Brendon didn’t know how long it took for them to walk all the way to his house, but by the time they got there, Brendon was crying into Jon’s shoulder.

     Spencer waited for the crowd to subside before walking into the bedroom, and found Ryan sitting on the edge of the bed.  Spencer said nothing, sitting down next to him, and Ryan let go, crying, and Spencer put a hand on his shaking shoulders.  They didn’t need to speak, but they did realize that things had just changed for the worse.

 

**August 2012**

     “Ryan, don’t act like you did anything wrong!  Brendon is the bad guy in this, okay?  He’s the one who told your parents you were gay.  He got you kicked out of your house for a year, Ryan!”  Spencer was always so passionate about the subject because he knew that Ryan was right, and Brendon was wrong, and he just decided that he wasn’t going to think about Jon. Ever.

    “Yeah, I know… I miss Jon sometimes.”  Spencer didn’t say anything because again, he wasn’t going to think about Jon.

     “He chose Brendon over us,” Ryan continued, and Spencer still wasn’t thinking about Jon.  Instead, he thought about Brendon; perfect and good-looking Brendon, who had stolen Jon from them… shit, he forgot that he wasn’t thinking about that.

     “No more!  We’re going to look at the list, and then we’re having a good night.  No more thinking of Brendon or Jon or things that can’t be changed.”  Spencer got off the couch and walked to the door deciding that he wasn’t going to let Ryan wallow.  Not tonight.

\---

     “There you are, Trick!”  Pete pushed his finger into the white paper hanging on the school’s door, “as if I’m surprised, you talented bastard!”  Patrick smiled at his best friend and moved to look at the bassists’ list.  There he was, the last name on the list.

     “It’s alphabetical,” Patrick said when Pete joined him to look at the list. He knew Pete would take it the wrong way, seeing his name at the bottom of the list, like he’d only made it in by the skin of his teeth, but Pete smiled.

     “Thank you, smart-ass.”

     “Make way!”  Gabe shouted pushing between the two boys.  William followed closely behind his boyfriend.  Gabe made an odd high-pitched noise, then turned and pressed his lips sloppily and fast on William’s. Patrick rolled his eyes at them; they were the worst when it came to PDA. When Gabe finally pushed off him and left the group to talk to Gerard and his brother, Mikey, William smiled.

     “He’s fun, right?” William said, looking after the other tall boy. “We’re going to Interlude tonight.  You guys in?”  Pete smiled widely at Patrick.

     “Yeah, we’ll be there,” Patrick answered.  Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick pressing a wet kiss to the side of his head, covered by his hat.

     “Peterick is in!”  William shouted to Gabe, who grinned at the boys and threw his thumbs up to let Bill know he was heard. Patrick’s brows furrowed.

     “Peterick?  What is Peterick?”  Patrick asked, but Pete answered for him.

     “Pete and Patrick,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

     “What are we, a celebrity power couple?” Patrick scoffed, and Pete smiled sweetly at him.

     “In your dreams, Trick!”  Patrick laughed, but for some reason it felt forced to him.  It wasn’t a big deal, though because Pete was always making jabs at him like that, and Patrick would fire them back just as fast.  They had been best friends since kindergarten when Patrick took the blame for Pete breaking all the pencils on the teacher’s desk, which had been a stupid prank, Patrick thought, but Pete had looked so scared and small that Patrick couldn’t help himself.  He still remembered Pete flopping down next to him on the story time mat and telling him that they were going to be best friends forever after that.

     “Patrick, hello?”  Patrick snapped out of his own mini flashback and saw William waving a hand in his face.

     “Yeah, what?” he asked, and William laughed at him.

     “Call Spencer and Ryan about going out tonight.  We want our ‘senior favorites’ there, according to Gabe,” he said before walking off to join Gabe.  It wasn’t until then that Patrick noticed Pete wasn’t next to him anymore. He was on his phone a few feet away, laughing loudly, and Patrick pulled his own phone out to make the call to Spencer.  Odds were in his favor that Ryan was with Spencer.

     “Hello?” Spencer’s voice came through the cell phone.

     “Hey, it’s Patrick, is Ryan with you?” 

     “Yeah, he’s next to me.  What’s up?”

     “William and Gabe are having a thing at Interlude tonight.  They wanted to make sure you guys knew about it,” Patrick said, and then he heard the sound of a radio in the background, “are you driving?”

     “Yeah, we’re on our way to see the list.”

     “Oh, we’re all already here, but we’re about to leave, I think.  Are you guys coming tonight?”  There was a pause over the phone, and Patrick could guess that Spencer was asking Ryan.

     “Who’s going?”  Patrick hated this part because ever since freshman year, they had to be careful about everyone getting together.  If they invited Spencer and Ryan, then Brendon and Jon were a no go and vice versa.  Then someone always felt left out… so he lied, but not really. He wasn’t totally sure that Brendon and Jon were coming, but he was willing to bet that Pete was on the phone with them.

     “Uh, me, Pete, Will, Gabe, Travis and Hayley probably, Joe, Andy, the girls… you know, everyone.”  He could hear whispering on the other end of the line.

     “Yeah, we’ll be there.  Meet you there in an hour?” Spencer asked.  Patrick smiled and confirmed the time.

     “See you guys there,” Patrick said hanging up.

     “Jon and Brendon are coming!” Pete shouted, still on the phone, and Patrick was glad that he’d already hung up before Pete opened his big mouth.  He decided to be a little more considerate and keep his own declaration until Pete hung up the phone.  When he was done, Pete skipped over to Patrick, jumping on his back causing him to stumble a little to the side.

     “Spencer and Ryan are going to be there,” Patrick said, lifting Pete higher on his back.

     “Ooh, interesting,” he said, “come on, Trick.  Take me home.”  Patrick forced another laugh when he felt that same feeling from early creeping up.  _What the hell is wrong with me,_ he thought.  They said their goodbyes to everyone, and Patrick made his way to the car, still toting Pete on his back.  When they finally reached Pete’s car, Pete smiled.

     “Thanks, Patrick,” he said smacking another wet kiss to the back of his neck, and Patrick was glad Pete had already jumped down or else he would have dropped him.  Pete was already in the driver’s seat when Patrick finally regained his composure.

     When Patrick slid into the passenger seat, Pete turned the car on, Blink 182 blasting through the speakers, and whipped the gear shift into reverse. As he was pulling out of the parking lot, Pete turned off the radio.  He wasn’t in the mood for the Blink, and instead, he wanted Patrick to sing, which was nothing new for either of them.

     “Sing for me, Trick.  I’m in the mood,” he said suggestively, and he laughed when he saw Patrick roll his eyes dramatically.

     “You’re always in the mood, you slut,” he said good-naturedly.  Pete felt the sting of the comment, but laughed anyway, knowing that while he was quite the flirt, Patrick would never think so low of him.  Things were quiet for a minute, but soon Patrick began to sing.  It was always like that between them; they would make fun, and it wouldn’t mean anything, but ever since they were fourteen, Pete hadn’t thought it was so much fun, and he only continued because Patrick did. He wouldn’t admit it, but he could pin the moment things had changed down to the day.

 

**April 2009**

     Pete was sitting on the couch watching TV with his dog sprawled across his lap.  Hemingway was the only dog he’d ever encountered that loved storms, and man, was there a storm going on outside.  The rain pounded loudly against the skylights above his head while the thunder would boom and lighting would send a mini light show through the windows.  Pete’s parents were away on business, as usual, and he was left on his own with the neighbors checking in on him, and though any other fourteen year old boy would have enjoyed it, the house all to himself, Pete just wanted his parents around more often.

    He thought about calling Patrick, but he was having his birthday dinner with his family tonight, and Pete didn’t want to intrude.  Pete had been invited by Mr. and Mrs. Stump, but he declined thinking that Patrick would want to be with just his family.  He was so lost in the Golden Girls rerun on TV and the sound of the rain and thunder, that he didn’t hear the knocking on the door at first, and Hemmingway was the one to jump off the couch with a yelp.  Pete frowned and followed the dog to the door, wondering what could have caught his attention, but when he looked out the side window on the door, he saw a drenched Patrick on his steps.

     “Shit,” he muttered, fumbling with the door.  His best friend was going to catch pneumonia on his porch because he was deaf. He flung the door open and pulled Patrick inside, nearly stepping on his dog as he tried to move back. Patrick was dripping water all over the hardwood floors, but Pete couldn’t care less.  Hemingway was sitting next to Patrick, looking ready to pounce; he loved Patrick more than any other person, and Pete honestly knew the feeling.

     “Trick, what the hell are you doing here? Did you walk all the way here?”  Patrick lifted his head, and under his hat, his eyes met Pete’s.  They were red and puffy, and Pete could tell that the wet tracks on his face weren’t just from the rain, and his heart dropped.

     “Patrick, what’s going on, man?”  Pete saw Patrick shivering in his oversized puffer coat and helped him pull it off.  He let if fall to the floor by the door and led Patrick into the living room, sitting him on the floor in front of the gas fireplace to warm him back up.

    “I watched it.”  Pete was so confused, and he had no idea what Patrick was talking about, but the cracks in his voice upset Pete to no end. 

     “Watched what?”  Patrick sniffed and pulled the wet collar of his t-shirt away from his neck.

     “The video you sent me in my email,” he said tugging his cap lower onto his head, and the redness spreading across his cheeks gave Pete a hint as to which video Patrick was talking about.

     “Trick, it was just porn!  It was a joke. Dude, I wouldn’t have sent it if I’d known you’d be so upset over it,” Pete said laughing.  He’d sent Patrick gay porn as a joke in his email, thinking he might find the exaggerated moans and dialogue ridiculous, but he couldn’t imagine Patrick getting so upset over it. If anything, Pete had assumed he’d shut it off, call Pete a dick, and then never mention it again.

     “It’s not…” Patrick trailed off roughly wiping his eyes, and Pete laughed again, not over his friends anguish, but over why it occurred.

     “Did your parents see it or something?”  Pete reached out to pat him on the arm, but Patrick jerked away.

     “Don’t touch me.” Pete was taken back.

     “Trick,” Pete breathed. 

     “Fuck you,” he said, “I don’t know why I came here.  This is all your fault.”  Patrick began to get up, but Pete grabbed him.

     “No way, what is wrong with you?  What did I do? It was just a fucking joke, Trick.”  He raised his voice.

     “I liked it!” Patrick yelled, and Pete froze, his hand still wrapped tight around Patrick’s upper arm.  He liked it?  Did that mean that -?  Pete took his hand off Patrick and watched him physically withdraw into himself.

     “I understand if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore…” Patrick said trailing off again, and it took Pete a moment to register what he was saying, but when it did, he began laughing.

     “Goddamn it, Pete.  Fuck you, seriously.”

     “No!  No, no!” he said, “it’s okay!  I’m gay,” Pete said through his laughter.  He was surprised that it had slipped out so easily, since he’d never told Patrick that he was gay, but now it didn’t seem like a big deal.

     “You’re gay?  Why didn’t you tell me?”  Patrick seemed truly shocked, and Pete explained that he didn’t want Patrick to hate him. Patrick told him he wouldn’t hate him for that and remained silent for a few minutes before speaking again.

     “So, how did you know?” he asked Pete.  Pete shrugged.

     “I don’t know… I just did.”  Patrick still seemed upset, but not so much at Pete anymore.

     “What is it?”

     “How can you know for sure?”  Pete shrugged again because he had no idea.  He had no physical contact with another boy in his life, and for all he knew, he might not like it.

     “I guess you should just give it a try.  I mean, I haven’t, but I’m pretty damn sure I like guys.”  Patrick nodded and drops of water fell from the edge of his hat onto his cheeks.

     “Well, let’s try.”  Pete was speechless; there was no way Patrick meant what Pete thought he meant. Did he want to try kissing him?  But they were best friends, and things would be weird…wouldn’t they? And he wouldn’t want to do anything to mess up his friendship with Patrick.

     “Okay,” he heard himself say, and then Patrick was moving closer, and Pete wasn’t sure what to do, but he closed his eyes and leaned in as well.  His nose bashed harshly into Patrick’s, and the two broke away laughing.

     “Try again?” Pete asked.  Patrick, still laughing, nodded and brought his hands up to cup Pete’s face, just as a precaution, Pete told himself.

     “Don’t break my nose,” Pete tried to joke, but it had no feeling behind it.  Patrick waited to close his eyes until he was close enough to feel Pete’s warm breath on his cold and damp skin.  It made him shiver in contrast, and he pressed his mouth gently to Pete’s. Pete immediately pushed back harder, and he could feel Pete’s hands gripping his forearms as he pulled Patrick closer.  Pete opened his mouth slightly, and Patrick followed, letting Pete lead the kiss.  It was sweet at first, no tongue, and unsure hands, but Patrick pulled one of his arms out of Pete’s grip and slid his hand back around Pete’s neck, pulling him impossibly close.  Pete ran his tongue along Patrick’s bottom lip, and he was happy when Patrick reciprocated.  Soon enough, they were clutching each other, mouths slipping open and easily across one another’s, and Patrick’s hat was on the floor.

     “Pete,” Patrick mumbled against his mouth.  It was enough to remind Pete that this wasn’t some guy; it was Patrick, and best friends don’t have make-out sessions.  Pete smiled, regardless of his feelings, and pulled away slowly.

     “So, that’s a yes then?”  Patrick said, and his voice was so gruff that Pete wondered if he could kiss him again and get away with it.

     “I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”  Patrick laughed at Pete’s answer, and he suddenly felt better about the whole thing.

     “So, I guess…” Pete waited for Patrick to finish his sentence.  _What_ , he thought, _you guess what?_ Some part of Pete hoped that Patrick would want them to try to be something more, but he knew that might not be the best idea because if it didn’t work out, their relationship would be over.

     “What?”

     “I guess we’ll have to find each other a boyfriend now.  Because I know you won’t be able to pick one for yourself,” he laughed, and Pete’s stomach fell, but he didn’t stop smiling at Patrick like nothing was wrong.

     “Right, right.  I’ll find you a nice guy,” Pete said, smile and all.  Patrick grinned and settled back onto the floor, letting Hemingway jump onto his lap.  Everything seemed normal; too normal after what just happened, and he didn’t like it.

     “I’m gonna go get you a towel,” Pete said and quickly ran up the stairs to the linen closet by the laundry room.  The night had started with Patrick crying, and Pete was afraid it was going to end with his own misery, and as he pulled a stack of towels out of the closet, he realized that’s exactly what was happening. He grabbed some clothes out of his room and composed himself before going back downstairs to see his best friend.

**August 2012**

Travis, Hayley, Joe, Vicky, Andy, and Greta made it to Interlude first and were immediately greeted by Zack, the bouncer who actually recognized them, and filed inside.  William’s dad owned the club and made sure that as long as the kids weren’t being crazy or served alcohol, they were allowed in.  Travis, being the tallest and easiest to keep track of, led them through the thick crowd up the stairs to one of the VIP rooms.  William had told them to wait up there if they arrived early, and Travis being Travis wasn’t going to be late.  He reached the door made of thin steel and pulled it open to reveal a cozy interior filled with plush couches and oversized chairs; if there had been a pole in the middle of the room, Travis would have thought it looked like a strip joint, but he’d never say such a thing to William.  The six of them piled inside, closing the door, and Travis grabbed the biggest chair he saw and laid back as he closed his eyes, waiting patiently for the others.

     “I’m going to call Bill,” Travis said after twenty minutes, and Hayley rolled her eyes at her impatient boyfriend because, god forbid, he actually had to wait.  He was under the impression that if he could be there on time, so could everyone else, which was not ever the case. He went to his contacts, found William, pressed call, and listened to William’s ring back tone, which was “Single Ladies”, still, and Travis hated the song, still.  The phone rang for a while until finally Gabe answered, “this better be good.  I’m currently trying to get laid.”

     “Too much information!”  Travis yelled into the phone, and Gabe began laughing hysterically,  before Travis was suddenly talking to William.

     “Hey, what’s up?”

     “We’re here, waiting on everyone.  Have you guys even left yet?”

     “We’re walking out the door right now,” William said, but Travis could hear what sounded like kisses on the other end of the line.

     “Jesus Christ, just get here,” he said hanging up.

     “Going to be a while?” Vicky asked laughing.  If she knew Gabe, and she did, he would have made sure Travis heard what was going down… literally.

     “Yes, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as Pete and Patrick came through the door.

Patrick took note of everyone as he looked for a place to sit. Travis was taking up an oversized chair all on his own, Joe and Andy had their heads bent over Andy’s phone, and the girls were crowded together on the loveseat, which left two tiny chairs. He greeted everyone and flopped down on the one of the chairs, and he watched Pete take a look around himself, but instead of taking a seat in the other chair next to Patrick, he squeezed himself into the same spot.

     “Pete, there is a perfectly good chair next to you,” Patrick said, but Pete just squirmed until he was sitting in the small space under Patrick’s arm. Patrick suddenly felt a little self-conscience of his rounded body, but, fortunately, he wasn’t given much time to think on it because Brendon and Jon were coming through the door.  They said their own hellos, and Jon grabbed the chair by Patrick before Brendon could steal it for himself, but Brendon was too busy to notice.

     “Ladies, you all look beautiful,” Brendon said, and though the girls rolled their eyes at him, they honestly didn’t mind Brendon’s flirtations.  He was charming sometimes, but he could also be more than reproachful if he didn’t like you.  He was the type of guy who made you feel like you were the only person in the room when he spoke to you, but if you were on his bad side… it was a place you didn’t want to be.  Brendon looked around now and found that the only place for him to sit was the floor so he sat down on the table right in front of Patrick and Pete.

     “Brendon, nice ass” Pete grinned and Brendon winked at him, which Patrick didn’t like.  He loved Brendon, and he loved Pete, but he sure as hell didn’t love a combination of the two.

“Jesus, Pete,” Patrick breathed, and the boys laughed at Patrick’s annoyed face until the door opened and everything went to hell.

     “Goddamn it, Patrick,” Spencer said as soon as he opened the door, and Ryan was standing unmoving next to him, staring angrily at Brendon.

      “What the fuck is so interesting, Ross?”  Brendon spat, his once happy face replaced by something far more sinister, and Ryan’s immobile body tensed before his face fell into a mean smirk.

     “Nothing about you, dick.” Spencer was looking at Jon, but Jon was watching Ryan because if Ryan made a move…  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Ryan and Brendon ended up in a physical fight.  Once, Spencer had received an elbow to the jaw from Ryan while attempting to rip him away from Brendon, and another time, Jon had to walk around with a black eye for two weeks because Brendon’s bony knee had caught him in the face.  It was becoming a pattern that Spencer didn’t enjoy.

     “Then why do you keep staring?”  Brendon said leaning forward on the table as if he was going to stand and Ryan snorted.

     “I’m wondering how it’s possible that you’re even more self-involved than you were just yesterday.”  Patrick immediately regretted lying to Spencer because the night was going to be ruined if Ryan and Brendon got into it.  Spencer and Jon weren’t the only ones to get caught in the line of fire, and Patrick remembered all too well when Pete got a glass bottle to the head (via Brendon) when he got in the way at a party two years ago.

     “Please, I think you’re the one who’s obsessed with me,” he said finally standing, and Ryan started towards him, another insult on the tip of his tongue, but luckily, William and Gabe came running in.

     “Sorry we’re late… what’s going on?” Gabe asked noticing the tension, and hoping to defuse it. He had walked in on Brendon and Ryan in a similar situation before, and in the end, William had to get stiches.  The funny part about it, was that Brendon and Ryan would beat each other black and blue, but the second someone else got hurt, they were both at the person’s side apologizing.

     “Nothing, we’re just waiting for you two,” Jon said, always the peacemaker, which Spencer admired that about him… but he wasn’t going to think about Jon.

     “Brendon and I are going to go dance,” Hayley intervened, and she clapped a hand on Travis’ knee, and he nodded, smiling at her, thankful she was getting Ryan and Brendon away from each other.  Brendon allowed Hayley to take his hand and pull him out the door, and Spencer kept close to Ryan in case he lashed out as they passed, which wasn’t unlikely, especially if Brendon said anything on the way out.

     “I need a drink,” Jon sighed, getting up to leave, and William went chasing after him because he didn’t need his dad getting arrested for serving minors, and William was sure Jon wouldn’t get carded because he definitely looked like a man.  He thought it was possible that Jon Walker was born with scruff, and that he was forever going to look like a frat boy without a razor.

     “Okay then, who wants to dance?”  Gabe asked, ready to move past the awkwardness.  Travis, Andy, Joe, and the girls jumped at the chance to get out of the room, which left Pete and Patrick alone with Ryan and Spencer.

     “Spencer, I’m sorry.  I – I didn’t want to leave anyone out…”  Spencer waved him off.  He wasn’t as much angry at Patrick as he was exhausted over the whole situation.  Patrick, feeling awful, passed the boys, and walked out the door, not wanting to start anything, and Pete sighed, a grimace replacing the blank look on his face.

     “He was trying to help, Spence.  Do not treat him that way,” Pete said quietly before leaving only Ryan and Spencer in the room.

     “He started it,” Ryan began.

     “We’re not six, Ryan!  Don’t.  You’re both at fault this time.  I’m going downstairs to try and enjoy the night, and I’d like it if you’d join me.”  Spencer didn’t like treating Ryan like a child, but if he was going to act like it, Spencer had no choice. Ryan didn’t respond; he just nodded and followed him down the stairs.

\---

     “I give it one more month.  They’ve been going back and forth for so long… it has to happen soon.”

     “No way, another year.  If they’re still like this after high school ends, then maybe they have a chance.”

     “It’s inevitably going to happen, why even put a date on it?” Hayley said.  After she and Brendon had danced (more like talked), Vicky and Greta had pulled her away, and now they were discussing Pete and Patrick.  The said boys were talking to William and Gabe a few feet away, and Pete was still comforting Patrick about the Spencer debacle with his arm looped through Patrick’s and every so often, Pete would lean in and say something to reassure him.  It was more than obvious that something was going on.

     “How about never?  They can’t date.  That is our band. What if they broke up? We’d be screwed,” Andy said, and Joe was nodding in agreement.

     “Oh, whatever.  It’ll happen,” Hayley said.

     “I hate to break it to you guys, but I agree,” Travis said, “it’s pretty damn obvious something is going on there.”  But Joe and Andy ignored him; they didn’t want to even consider it.

\---

     “Dance with me,” Gabe said to William.  They had been sitting with Pete and Patrick for a good half hour, and Gabe wanted to dance.

     “Oh, me too.  Come on, Trick,” Pete said, pulling the boy towards the dance floor.

     “No way, I don’t dance.” 

     “Pete will teach you.  He’s a good dancer,” William smirked.  He and Pete had tried dating once upon a time since their parents were such good friends.  It hadn’t worked out, and they decided they were better friends than boyfriends.  Regardless, Patrick hated that smirk because he was well aware that William knew more… _intimate_ details about Pete. Okay, not the most intimate, but they’d definitely made it past first base, which strangely didn’t seem to bother Gabe at all.

     “Please, please, please,” Pete begged, and Patrick knew if he didn’t give in, he’d never hear the end of it.

     “Fine,” Patrick said and sighed as Pete pulled him onto the floor.  It was crowded and hot, and Patrick always felt out of place here.  All the beautiful people dressed in next to nothing... Pete grabbed his hips.

     “Okay, move to the beat.  Don’t pretend you don’t have rhythm.  You are nothing but rhythm,” Pete said.  Patrick was trying to focus on the music, but all he could feel was Pete’s hands on his sides, and he wanted to move closer, but he didn’t.

     “See? You’re good, keep going.”  Patrick said nothing as Pete drew him closer.  It made sense, Patrick thought, because it was loud, and Pete just wanted Patrick to be able to hear him.  Pete began moving, too, and sometimes, Patrick could feel Pete’s knees brush his, but he was careful to keep a good distance between their hips.

     “Keep going,” Pete said again, and moved even closer.  Patrick couldn’t handle it, and he shook his head, not wanting to get too close

     “C’mon, Trick,” Pete said, mouth near his ear, but Patrick could only hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he shook his head again.

     “No,” he said quietly, but the other boy didn’t hear him.  Pete kept his hands on Patrick’s hips, moving with him.

     “No,” Patrick said louder.  Pete looked at him, confused.

     “You’re good, don’t stop.”  Patrick couldn’t decide if he was a second away from punching or kissing him, so he pushed Pete off instead.  Obviously kissing wasn’t an option.

     “I said, no!”  Patrick stopped off, leaving Pete alone on the dance floor, and Gabe and William stopped dancing and watched the scene.  Pete was after Patrick only a moment later, and Gabe wrapped him arms around his tall boyfriend.

     “I hate this.  Nothing is working out the way I planned,” he said sadly.  William placed a kiss on top of Gabe’s head.

     “I’m sorry, babe.”  Gabe pressed himself closer to Will, and they moved together in silence until Gabe’s head popped up off his shoulder.

     “That’s my goal!”  William laughed because Gabe always had a yearly goal.  His freshman year, it was to become popular; sophomore year was to get William to be his boyfriend, and junior year it was to be student body president.  He’d accomplished all those things because when Gabe set his mind to something, it happened.  Even if everything seemed to be going against him, some turn of events would bend things to Gabe’s favor, almost unnaturally.

     “What is it?”

     “I’m going to get them all together.  Pete and Patrick, I and I, and Spencer and Jon!”  William understood the first paring, but the last two?  Not going to happen.

     “I and I?  I don’t know about that.”  Gabe rolled his eyes as if it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.

     “Oh please, there is so much sexual tension built up there, it makes me horny.”  William laughed since Gabe _would_ see fighting between two good looking people as sexual tension.

     “And Spencer and Jon?”

     “Obvious, again.  Have you seen them together?  They can’t keep their eyes off each other.  It’s been in the works since they were babies in eighth grade, sweetheart, just go with it.”  William didn’t say anything, smiling and kissing Gabe.  For everyone’s sake, he hoped Gabe got what he wanted.

     “Don’t worry,” Gabe said, as if he was reading Will’s mind (and William thought it was definitely possible with Gabe), “it’ll happen.  Power of the Cobra.” 

\---

     Pete had followed Patrick all the way to the bathroom, and he stood outside the stall waiting for Patrick to talk to him.

     “I’m sorry, Trick.  I should have realized you were uncomfortable,” Pete said leaning against the door.  He felt bad about upsetting him; he’d just wanted Patrick to have a good time, but he’d ruined it instead. He had been so lost in Patrick and the music …When Pete heard the click of the stall door, and almost wept with relief, and Patrick came out, head down, and his face was shadowed by his hat.

     “I overreacted.  Sorry,” Patrick said shortly, and he moved towards the sinks, but Pete grabbed his arm.

     “No, stop apologizing all the time.  It’s not always your fault, okay?  Sometimes it’s mine, even though I’ll deny that to the day I die, so don’t bring it up again.”  Patrick was torn again on   whether to move closer or push Pete off him again.  So, he did neither and just stayed there, Pete’s hand still wrapped around his wrist.

     “It’s okay.  I forgive you.”  _But not really_ , Patrick thought.  Pete may have said some nice words, but were they sincere? He didn’t want this kind of thing to keep happening between them.

     “No, you don’t,” Pete sighed, “but I mean it.  I’m sorry.”  He pushed Patrick’s hat back on his head so he could see his face because Patrick’s face always gave him away, but Patrick would have said the same about Pete.

     “I really do forgive you,” Patrick said, and his eyes softened.  Pete smiled because now he was forgiven; he could tell. He placed a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, trying to make him laugh, but it didn’t work immediately, so he leaned back, and Patrick was smiling back at him, which meant it was working.  Pete kissed his right cheek, then his left… Patrick’s heart was thundering against his ribcage.  Pete placed one more kiss to the tip of Patrick’s nose, but he didn’t pull back as far this time, and all Patrick had to do was lean forward and…

     “Whoa, sorry dudes!”  Pete jumped away from Patrick and saw a young man staring at them.

     “I’ll just come back later…” And he was gone.  They weren’t alone for long, though, and the door swung open again. This time Spencer came in, shirt soaked and a pissed off expression on his face.

     “Sorry, I – Patrick, Pete, hey,” Spencer frowned.  After Pete’s little declaration on his treatment of Patrick, Spencer was feeling like a real ass. “Hey, Patrick, listen, I’m sorry about earlier…”

     “No, it’s okay.  Really.  I shouldn’t have lied to you guys.  I would have been upset, too… What happened to you?” Patrick asked, curiosity getting the best of him as he observed Spencer’s appearance.

     “Some jerk poured his beer on me, and now I’m stuck smelling like alcohol all night,” he said annoyed, “uh, Brendon was actually looking for you, Pete.  Something about the lyrics sounding like that one nineties song… He said you would know what he was talking about.”  Pete nodded.  He and Brendon talked about lyrics all the time, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly what song Brendon was referring to.

     “Okay, good luck with the shirt,” Pete said, no longer upset him.  If Patrick was happy with the apology, so was he.  Plus, it was probably good he’d walked in when he did because it saved him from explaining his almost kiss to Patrick. Pete started out the door, Patrick following behind him, giving Spencer a small smile. When Spencer was alone, he moved to the mirror to see the damage on his shirt and groaned at the huge stain on the light colored cotton.  Turning on the water, he looked for some paper towels to see if he could at least make the spot less noticeable.  He lifted the shirt up, cringing at the wet feeling left on his stomach, and he started dabbing at the stain when Jon, of all damn people, walked in.  Both boys stopped moving and just watched each other, and Spencer wondered if he was dreaming again because this wasn’t the first time he’d fantasied about Jon meeting him in a bathroom,  being pushed against the sinks… Spencer swallowed against the lump forming in his throat.

     “Hey,” Jon said.

     “Hey,” Spencer managed.  His shirt was still bunched up, exposing the bottom of his pale stomach, and Jon was staring.

     “What happened?” Jon asked, staying near the door.  He didn’t want to – couldn’t get too close.

     “Some guy poured beer on me,” Spencer forced a laugh, and he continued rubbing the shirt but only succeeded in breaking the paper towel into pieces.

     “Okay, you’re not helping yourself,” Jon said, finally moving away from the door.  He started pulling off his own shirt, and Spencer wasn’t breathing anymore as Jon handed Spencer the black shirt. That’s when he noticed Jon was wearing another shirt underneath.

     “Literally giving me the shirt off your back?” Spencer tried to joke as he took the shirt from Jon’s hands. Jon straightened himself up, trying to find enough strength to speak again.  He was praying Spencer would just pull his fucking shirt down, at least until Jon left.

     “Used to be you would have done the same for me,” he said moving back towards the door. He needed to get out fast because if he stayed longer… Well, he wanted Spencer and that in itself was scary, but to imagine what would happen if Brendon found out was truly terrifying.

     “Jon,” Spencer said, but Jon was already moving out the door. Spencer waited until his hands stopped shaking before slipping his wet shirt off, wiping his chest with a fresh paper towel, and then putting Jon’s shirt on.  It smelled like him, and Spencer could have cried in the club bathroom over the friends he’d lost.

\---

     Later that night, Jon and Brendon were lying in Jon’s bed “watching” _Almost Famous_.  Jon mainly stared at the ceiling while Brendon’s eyes were trained on the TV, unfocused, and Jon heard Brendon hiccup next to him.

     “I wish we just stayed in,” he said weakly, and Jon reached for Brendon’s hand. He could feel his best friend’s heart breaking.  It was a sad little picture, the two of them, hearts in knots over two people who would never love them back, not that they should want them to in the first place.  Jon didn’t care what mean things Brendon spouted off to Brendon because not only did the other boy deserve it after what he did, but Jon knew Brendon didn’t mean a word of it.  Brendon was lying to himself if he thought that he actually hated Brendon, and the truth was that Brendon was just heartbroken over the way things had ended up for them. 

     “Me too,” he murmured, thinking of Spencer and wishing that they’d just come back to his place and ordered pizza.  Brendon didn’t like to cry, and he tried not to. The only way Jon could tell was to look at him and see that Brendon’s eyes were wet. He squeezed Brendon’s hand tightly, “Brendon didn’t mean those things he said.” It didn’t matter how many times Jon said that, still not believing that his old best friends could be so cruel, Brendon didn’t listen.

     “He didn’t,” Jon said more firmly, but Brendon said nothing and rolled over, putting his back to Jon, but he continued to hold onto his hand.  Jon tried to tune into the movie and not Brendon’s sniffling, trying to give him some semblance of privacy in his cramped apartment.  It was the part where everyone was on the bus singing “Tiny Dancer” and all was forgiven.

     Jon only wished things were that easy.

\---

     “I didn’t mean what I said,” Ryan said, and Spencer looked over at his thin friend as they sat outside of Ryan’s house in Spencer’s car. Ryan wasn’t looking at him, and he continued fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt, which he’d started as soon as they had gotten into the car.

     “I know.”  Spencer knew Ryan never meant anything mean that he said to Ryan, which made him wonder why he and Ryan were still at it.

     “Why am I such an asshole?”  Spencer sighed.

     “You’re not.  You’re upset… and I think you might care about him,” Spencer said gently.  Ryan glared at him, eyes darting to Spencer’s face lightning fast, and Spencer regretted saying anything at all.

     “What the fuck?  He got me kicked out of my house for a fucking year, Spence. He nearly ruined my relationship with my family.”  Spencer nodded because he was all too aware of that, and he knew Ryan was upset about it, but he was almost positive that Ryan was tired of fighting.  He was sure Ryan had forgiven Ryan, but Spencer couldn’t, which was why he never pressed Ryan to patch things up with Ryan.  Ryan had hurt Ryan over a misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t even give Ryan time to explain what actually happened.  Ryan was the closest thing Spencer had to a brother, and if someone fucked with Ryan, they fucked with him, too.

     “You’re right.  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”  But Ryan had already opened the car door, and he muttered a goodnight to Spencer. He walked up to his front door and went inside, waiting for Spencer to leave. He wasn’t dealing with the Ryan situation well but that was nothing new. He was pissed at Spencer now, too, for saying that he may care about Ryan. Honestly, he knew there were non-hostile feelings there, if for no other reason than he found Ryan insanely attractive. Four years ago, Ryan had been the most gorgeous person Ryan had ever seen in person, and then he grew up, and Ryan couldn’t imagine that someone that perfect could exist.  He no longer had the braces or the bowl haircut, which Ryan could admit was not Ryan’s best look, but now he was all… Ryan.  Perfect Ryan, and if Ryan were honest, he was jealous because he was still the too tall kid he’d always been.  He went to his room and threw himself down onto the bed, hoping he could fall asleep fast and stop thinking for once.

\---

     Spencer went home and went to sleep wearing Jon’s shirt, glad that Ryan had gone home and even gladder that Ryan was too absorbed in his own shit to notice that Spencer was wearing a different shirt.

\---

     Gabe rolled off of William and couldn’t stop smiling at him.

     “I love you,” Gabe said grabbing for William’s hand, and William laughed at his boyfriend’s big smile as he traced the cobra tattoo on Gabe’s side.

     “I love you, too.”  William kissed Gabe once more and then followed the boy to the shower.  Things were perfect for them as far as they were concerned, and William wanted it to last forever.  If Gabe had any say, it would.

\---

     Pete went home alone.  After what happened (or almost happened) in the bathroom of Interlude, Patrick had maintained distance, and Pete felt like he could have thrown himself off a bridge for causing Patrick to avoid him.  When he was ready to go, he found Patrick talking to a guy from the band that had been playing that night, which Pete thought had sucked... actually they had been okay, but he didn’t like Patrick’s sudden interest in one of the band members.

     It was the bassist, which was the cherry on top of an already shitty night.

     Pete had asked Patrick if he was ready, but Jake, or what the hell ever his name was, answered for him, which had pissed Pete off to no end. He said he’d give Patrick a ride, and Pete didn’t like the connotations that held.  He’d almost fought the guy on it, but Patrick seemed to want Pete to leave, and Pete couldn’t blame him for wanting that.

     He’d bowed out gracefully because Patrick could do whatever he wanted because it wasn’t like he was Pete’s boyfriend.  They were best friends, and if anything, Patrick should be able to fuck who he wanted, and Pete should congratulate him on getting laid, but that obviously that wasn’t going to be the case.

     The drive home was longer than usual with Patrick’s company, and he’d wanted to turn around so many times, go caveman, and throw Patrick over his shoulder and into the car. Instead he just continuously text him, hoping that his constant interruptions would keep Jack, or whatever, at bay. It started raining on his way home, and he frowned, flipping on his windshield wipers angrily. He hated the fucking rain.

\---

     Patrick went home alone.  Jack had decided that if Patrick didn’t want to give it up, he didn’t need to give Patrick a ride, and he had left him three blocks from his house. It had taken a good fifteen minutes to get home, and he groaned when the rain started, and he had to pick up the pace. He turned into the driveway to his house and power walked in to see his dad sitting on the couch.

     “Hey Patrick,” he said, smiling, seemingly unconcerned with how late Patrick had been out.  Patrick sighed in relief as soon as he saw his father; he couldn’t have been happier to see him than this moment.

     “Hey dad.”  Patrick sat down next to him, careful not to lean his damp back against the couch too much.

     “Rough night?”  He asked, turning to him, and Patrick nodded.

     “Yeah… I don’t want to talk about it.”  His dad waited a beat, giving him a chance to change his mind, and then turned up the TV.

     “This is a good one…” Patrick listened to his father explain what was going on in the episode, but Patrick had never even heard of the show, but he stayed and listened to his dad ramble because Pete and his dad were the only people Patrick wanted to see when he was sad.  But since Pete was the reason for his sadness, it was his dad he wanted around.  He looked over at the older man, admiration radiating off of him, and he couldn’t help but tell his dad that he was glad he was there.

     “Thanks, dad.”  Patrick’s father paused in his explanation and smiled slightly, and then he continued.  Patrick closed his eyes, ignored the vibrations of his phone going off in his pocket, and listened to the soothing sound of his father’s voice and the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**August 2012**

     Monday came too soon for the seniors of Wilmington High, and it meant the beginning of notes, exams, and bitchy teachers.  For a select few who were lucky enough to have music first period, things weren’t as bad as they could have been that morning.  Ashlee had spent the weekend working on her major class project, and she had decided on something that would not only show off the kids in her class, but it would, hopefully, be fun for them as well.  Picking groups had been difficult, but looking at her list now, she was happy with the results, and she had a feeling the groups were going to work perfectly. 

     Ashlee continued looking over her list as her students poured in.  Gerard and Frank had been the first in class, and the two were now huddled over Gerard’s iPod, and a few chairs over from them sat Pete.  He wasn’t smiling, and Ashlee found that odd because he’d been so bubbly the first time she met him.  Towards the front, Brendon and Jon were talking heatedly.

     “You are out of your mind, Walker!”  Brendon seemed genuinely annoyed by the other boy.

     “No, you are!  I know for a fact I’m right,” Jon fired back, and Ashlee was beginning to think she might have to intervene until Jon continued.

     “I work there, Brendon!  The Peppermint Mocha is a seasonal drink!  You cannot order it now,” he told him. Brendon rolled his eyes, and Ashlee stifled a laugh.

     “I can’t imagine that something as wonderful as the peppermint mocha is only seasonal.  Only an idiot would decide that drink isn’t worth year round sale.”  Brendon said and turned away from Jon, annoyed and not wanting to discuss it any further.

     Patrick came in followed closely by Ryan and Spencer, and the three boys sat in the back. Patrick immediately pulled his guitar out of the case, and Ryan showed him a handful of pages that looked like they’d been ripped from a notebook.  Ashlee noted the glances from Pete towards the back of the room, and she mentally scolded herself.  She was not a counselor; she was a teacher, and she had no right to be snooping in their business. 

     Travis came in next, Hayley right behind him, and Ashlee was happy for the distraction.  She hated how emotionally invested she could become in matters that were none of her business.  Plus, she loved the dynamic of this particular couple.  Travis, all dark skin, tattoos, and miles of legs, and Hayley with her bright red hair, short stature, and the most powerful belt Ashlee had ever heard out of a seventeen year old girl.  The two settled behind Jon and Brendon, who were already acting as though they hadn’t just had a ridiculous argument about coffee.

     Gabe and William came through the doors of the classroom.  If there were two people Ashlee loved together in the class, it was these two.  They opened both of the doors to enter, arms wrapped around each other, and not a care in the world.  They were smiling, totally content, but the moment they saw Pete, they separated and joined Pete, concerned. Ashlee could hit herself; it was none of her business.

     Joe and Andy came in next, joined at the hip as usual, and after looking over the classroom, they sat alone, not choosing to sit with anyone.  Vicky came rushing in, eyes darting to the clock, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she wasn’t late.  Greta followed in a similar manner before sitting in a seat next to Andy.  More odd couples, Ashlee thought looking at Greta, a blonde bombshell and her drummer boyfriend, Andy, who were complete opposites.  She waited a few extra minutes for the rest of the class to pile in before beginning even though a few straggling students wandered in as the late bell rang.

     “Good morning everyone, I just wanted to go ahead and say congratulations to everyone on making it in.  You are all so talented,” she smiled warmly, “but today is the day the work starts.  I have few rules, but if you work hard, you’ll do well.  Rule number one is one that I have zero tolerance for.  I will not have anyone bad mouthing another student, and if it happens, you’re out.  Rule number two is don’t break rule number one.”  A few student s laughed at this, and it made Ashlee feel like maybe she would make it through her first day.

     “Now, as for your grade, I will not be giving many exams.  I mainly want to focus on getting you to reach your potential on your various instruments, and your assignments in this class will almost always be done in groups.  I am assigning the first today, as well as your groups,” a few students groaned at this, and Ashlee laughed, “I know, I know, life sucks. You hate me and the people in your group already.”  She picked the list of groups up off her desk. 

     “Now, I’m putting you in groups of four and five.  The idea is to basically form a band.  Your job is to pick a name for your group, write a song, and perform it.  When I say write a song, I mean music, lyrics… the whole thing.  If you don’t know how to write music, feel free to find help from your classmates or myself.”  Everyone seemed to perk up at the idea of a band, and she thought that they might. After all, she’d rather join a band than study for an exam.

     “When I tell you who your group will be, feel free to find a spot somewhere in the room to discuss the project,” she said before reading off the first few groups.  After she named off four groups and people started rearranging themselves, Pete heard his name.

     “Pete, Joe, Andy, and Patrick,” Ashlee said looking up at them, “you all can get together and start swapping ideas.”  Ashlee still hadn’t decided if it had been fair for her to keep those four together, knowing that they’d been a band for a while, but she’d talked herself into it in the end because of how well she thought they would work together.  That was her main criteria when putting the groups together.  She looked at their musical styles and then placed them into groups based on that, but she was aware that any group that received Patrick or Brendon was working with an unfair advantage.

     “Hayley,” the red head glanced up at Ashlee as she listed of the rest of the girl’s group.  She seemed happy when she bounced over to the boys at the end of her row, and Ashlee was thankful that no one had started complaining about their group yet.  She almost didn’t separate Gabe and William, but they were both singers, and it had to be done.  She did place Vicky in Gabe’s group as some sort of consolation since she was aware that the two were close friends, and if anyone would have a keytar player in his band, it was Gabe.   As the number of people left dwindled down, Brendon began to get a nauseous feeling.  He could handle anyone in his group, even Spencer just not Ryan…

     “Brendon, Jon,” Brendon smiled. He’d gotten Jon, and as he looked around, he hoped that Frank and Bob would be the additions to his new band, but Ashlee continued and all hope was lost, “you two are with Spencer and Ryan.”  She moved on to the last two groups, and Brendon could feel the overwhelming dread filling his gut.  _This can’t be happening_ , he thought.  He felt Jon’s hand on his knee, an attempt to steady Brendon, and none of the boys moved until the rest of the groups had gathered, but Jon decided that Brendon couldn’t be put through this.  He watched as Ashlee moved to her office, and before Brendon could stop him, Jon was up and after her.

     Jon was about to knock on the door, but he was surprised to see Spencer was already inside, so he stayed out of sight and listened to the muffled sounds of Spencer’s voice.

     “Ms. Simpson,” Spencer started before Ashlee corrected him, “sorry, Ashlee, I really don’t think that our group is the best idea, um, two of us already have a very bad history, and it wouldn’t be a good decision to place them together.”  Jon could tell even through the door that Spencer’s calm voice was layered with a desperation that could only be brought on by the Ryan/Brendon crisis.  He saw Ashlee shaking her head and decided to intervene, knocking on the cracked door and stepping inside quickly before he could be turned away.

     “Uh, I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but Spencer is right,” Spencer looked at him, wide eyed, and he continued, “I don’t think we’ll be able to get through the project without one of our members going Sid on Nancy.”  Spencer wanted to laugh, but a part of him was almost sad that Jon didn’t want to be in a group with him, even though it probably didn’t have anything to do with him, but who was he to talk?  Wasn’t he doing the same thing? Ashlee gave them a long look before asking them to sit.  She leaned against her desk and looked down at the two young men.

     “Listen, I put these groups together based on how well I thought you would play together.  Jon,” she said looking at him directly, “you are so laid back on the bass, which sets a tone for the entire group.  That needs structure though,” she said looking now at Spencer, “and that’s you.  I still can’t believe you have no formal training, by the way, but your structure and Jon’s easy-going playing are perfect for each other.  I can’t imagine a better rhythm duo.”  Spencer couldn’t look at Jon, knowing his face was bright red, and he kind of wanted to throw up now.

    “We’re not the problem,” Jon managed, “it’s Brendon and Ryan.  They honestly cannot be alone.  They’ve been in fights, like, big time, drag-out fights with fists.”  Ashlee saw the concern coming from the boys over their two friends, and she wondered if she had made a mistake, but her suppressed counselor side was rearing its head.

     “Okay, can I tell you why I placed them together?  It was partly due to the fact that I wanted them as a part of your group, but it’s also because of a song Ryan showed me when he auditioned. I had just seen Brendon’s audition, and I thought Brendon’s voice and that song would work so well together. Ask Ryan about the song, play it together, and I guarantee you’ll see why I placed the four of you in a group.”  Jon nodded, defeated.  He could see that they weren’t getting out of this one. Spencer was up before him, and he was holding the door for Jon.  Jon muttered a thank you, but the moment was short lived when they saw that Ryan and Brendon were nowhere to be found.  Jon hoped he was just missing his best friend in one of the clusters of people around them room, but he heard the quiet thud outside the doors and knew immediately where they were.  Spencer was, again, in front of him and to the door, which he flung open, and they were greeted with an ugly sight.

     Ryan had Brendon pushed against the lockers, struggling to hold him up.  Jon could see the glint of red at the corner of Brendon’s mouth and again on Ryan’s cheek; he was still unsure of how they managed to draw blood so quickly.  Brendon broke free of Ryan and shoved him to the ground and landed a rather nasty punch to Ryan’s shoulder.  Jon moved forward to stop them, but paused at the light weight on his wrist.  Spencer - _Spencer,_ who hadn’t touched him in four years, was holding him back.  He wished the circumstances were different, and he wished so much that Brendon and Ryan had never gone to that fucking party… Spencer shook his head.

     “They need to get it out sometime,” he whispered, but Jon thought it was a bad idea.

     “They’ll kill each other,” Jon said urgently to the other boy, but he didn’t move, and he didn’t release Jon’s wrist.  They watched as Brendon and Ryan continued a fight for dominance, and they both got some good hits in. It made Spencer sick to see his friend getting the hell beat out of him, but he and Jon couldn’t always be responsible for keeping them at bay.  Ryan was the first to speak.

     “I hate you!” he shouted from the ground, and Brendon visibly hesitated.  A miserable look passed over his face, but he replaced it quickly giving Ryan an ugly and bloody grin.  Jon had never seen Brendon look so… wrong, but this entire thing was wrong.  He wanted a teacher to come by and break the fight up - he wanted it to stop, but Spencer was right.  Ryan yelled again as Brendon pushed him harder into the linoleum _.  Where the fuck are the adults_ , Jon wondered.  If he couldn’t break it up, he at least wanted _someone_ to do it.

     “I fucking hate you,” Ryan said, and this time his voice faltered, quieting. Spencer could feel his breath and heart and brain all working against each other making it almost impossible to move, and he thought he’d made a mistake. Maybe he and Jon should have stopped the fight. Ryan was going to cry in front of Brendon, and Spencer didn’t want him to have to deal with that. Brendon’s hits ceased landing so hard, tired already and drained from all his emotions screaming at him to stop. This was the first time their fight hadn’t been broken up, and instead, let run its course.

     “God, I hate you so much,” Ryan said again, even quieter now, and as Brendon stopped throwing punches, Ryan went limp on the floor.  He was giving up, and Spencer thought that was worse than the fight.  Brendon pushed away from Ryan quickly, his hands shaking as he fell back.  Jon could see the blood from Ryan’s nose on Brendon’s knuckles when he reached his hand up to wipe his mouth. Brendon was slumped against the lockers, and Ryan continued to lay spread eagle on the floor, not attempting to move.  Jon noticed Spencer’s hand was still clutching his wrist, and the only sounds coming from the hallway were the heaving breathing of two bruised and bloodied boys as well as the hitched breaths of two worried friends.

\---

     Pete was being an asshole, and Patrick was pissed about it.  He wasn’t exactly sure why Pete was treating him like a leper, but he didn’t so much care.  He threw his backpack across the room, not wanting to go to practice.  Either Joe and Andy were either completely oblivious to their friends’ fight or they didn’t want to acknowledge it because Joe had said that he would be at Pete’s at six as if nothing had happened.  Patrick flopped onto his bed, wanting to call Pete and ask him what his problem was, but he couldn’t. He knew exactly what would happen because it was the same thing that always happened.  Patrick would end up apologizing, and Pete would make things out to be anyone’s fault but his own.  He supposed he had to be at practice, though, and they needed a band name by tomorrow, and Patrick needed to write a new song.  He wasn’t feeling particularly creative and until Pete gave him words to work with, he had nothing.

     His phone rang, and Patrick tried not to answer too quickly in case it was Pete calling, but it was Gabe.

     “Hey, what’s up?” Patrick answered.

     “What is your problem?” Gabe yelled at him through the receiver.

     “Whoa, wait!  What the hell did I do?” Patrick asked.  He could hear Gabe cursing in Spanish.

     “ _What did you do_?  Pete is a mess, and the only way to upset Pete this much is through you, so, you’ve done something!  What is it?”

     “Fuck you, Gabe,” Patrick said angrily, “I didn’t do anything to him.  He’s the asshole in all this.  If you should be yelling at anyone, it should be him.”  Patrick hung up.  How dare Gabe call him like it was any of his business?  Patrick was livid now, and he could just – just kill Pete for bringing Gabe into this.  His phone rang again, and he resisted the urge to throw it into a wall, and it was Pete this time, which made the urge to destroy his phone stronger.  Here we go, Patrick thought as he answered the phone.

     “Hello?” It sounded more like, ‘fuck you’.

     “Hey, Trick,” Pete said quietly, and already Patrick knew this was going to be a conversation where nothing meant what it sounded like.  Pete was so good at those types of talks.

     “What?” Patrick asked shortly.

     “I was wondering if you were still coming to practice.”

     Which meant, _Can we be friends again?_

     “I’m not sure.”  Patrick almost felt bad. Almost.

     “Well, it’s at six, still, but you can come over early though.  We can work on the project, and I think I can come up with something…”

     Patrick heard, _Please come over.  We can pretend we’re not fighting._

     “I’ll try to be there, Pete,” Patrick answered, annoyed.  Here was Pete, the picture of a victim, and Patrick in his role as the bad guy, but it made no sense.  Pete was the one who had been too upset with him to even speak to Patrick at school after blowing up his phone only nights before.

     “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Pete said quietly, and this pissed Patrick off even more.

     “Shit, Pete, I said I’ll try!”  He was met with silence on the other end, but it didn’t matter; he was on a roll, “and by the way, don’t get Gabe to fight your battles for you.  Man up.  If you’ve got a problem with me, tell me.”  He hung up.  At this rate, Patrick wasn’t going to have any more friends by the end of the day, which didn’t seem fair given the fact that he hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve it. He threw his arm over his eyes, and he thought it best that he skipped practice that night.

\---

     The next day everyone had their band names prepared, even Patrick’s group. He was honestly still surprised that they’d never come up with a name before. He’d gotten a text from Pete at four in the morning with just three words.  Patrick had answered, ‘fine’, knowing exactly what it was supposed to be, and that was it.  They hadn’t spoken since.

    “Paramore,” Hayley said smiling, spelling the name for her since they’d changed it.  Ashlee was writing the names of the groups down.  She had some funny ones like Cobra Starship (“I always wanted to be an astronaut… and then, of course, there’s the legend of the Cobra,” Gabe said explaining the name, but William had cut him off there.)  There was an interesting one, Panic! At The Disco “with an exclamation point,” that she didn’t quite get, but wrote it down anyway.

     “Alright, Joe, Andy, Pete, and Patrick,” she said finding them in the middle row, “what did you all come up with?”  Pete looked at Patrick and waited for him to speak.

     “Fall Out Boy,” Patrick answered, remembering the text from Pete, and he wondered for the first time if it had anything to do with a certain falling out happening right in front of them. Patrick looked to Pete who turned away from him quickly, and he was so over it.  If Pete wanted to play this game, Patrick would play, and he would win.

\---

      Over the next few days, Jon was nearly ready to kill Brendon.  When Brendon was at home, he was texting Jon about texting Spencer to text Ryan about this “one part of the song”.  When he was at Jon’s, he was trying to force Jon into texting Spencer to text Ryan to see if there should be a –insert instrument here- added to the song.  So far, Ryan hadn’t responded, which made Brendon think that either nothing he put together was good enough or Ryan was just being a dick.

     “If I fail because of that asshat… Can you ask Spencer to ask Ross if the bridge should be slower?” Brendon told him, and Jon knew if he smothered him with a pillow, no one could pin it to him.

     “No,” Jon said surprising himself and Brendon, “no.  If you want to know about the song, you will talk to him yourself.  In fact, we’re going to try that now.”  Jon began searching through his phone because even after the falling out, he couldn’t bring himself to delete Ryan’s number.  He picked up a pen off the table where Brendon had sprawled his hand written sheet music.  He scribbled the number down on one of the pages, regardless of the fact that Jon was sure Brendon still had the number, but Jon didn’t want to text Spencer to text Ryan. He wasn’t going to text Ryan directly either, knowing full well he’d be ignored.  Also, if he was going to text Spencer, it would be because he wanted to.

     “Jon, I can’t talk to him.  He hates me, remember?”  Jon reminded himself of when he carried Brendon out of William’s house after the party.

     “He only said that because you were beating his face in.”  Brendon wasn’t listening to him, and Jon could tell that he was more upset than usual lately because he hadn’t been able to write music or finish a verse in months.  A couple months ago, Brendon could have whipped a song out by himself in a day, and maybe it wouldn’t be great, but it would at least be finished.  Brendon just stared at the number, and then Jon’s phone was ringing, distracting them both.  It was a ringtone, which he no longer used, and he hadn’t heard this particular one in a long time. It startled him most because it was Spencer’s old ringtone.

     “Hello?” Jon answered carefully, thinking it must have been a mistake.

      “Jon, it’s Spencer,” he said as if Jon didn’t know, “are you busy?”  Jon wasn’t sure he could form words, but thankfully, his mouth was working better than his brain.

     “Not really, what’s wrong?”  Jon asked.  Why else would Spencer call him on purpose?  Something had to have gone wrong.

     “Nothing, it’s just, uh, I still have your shirt, you know, if you wanted to come get it. If not, I mean, I guess I could have just brought it to the school…”  Jon’s tongue was filling up his mouth because Spencer wanted him to come over to his house.  To _Spencer’s_ house. 

     “Sure, now?”

     “What? Oh, yeah, I can, um, give you directions or –.” Spencer was cut off by Jon’s sudden low laugh.

     “What?”

     “I remember where you are.”  Spencer knew Jon meant he knew how to get to his house, but it held more than one meaning for him.

     “Okay.  Fifteen minutes, then?”  Jon confirmed and waited for Spencer to hang up first.  Brendon was still refusing to text Ryan when Jon got off the couch and grabbed his keys off the corner of the table.

     “I’ll be right back,” he said, not wanting to explain where he was headed, “text him.” Jon left Brendon and practically ran to his car, hoping be wouldn’t be followed.

     He broke several speed limits getting there, but after he pulled up, it took him seven minutes to even open his car door.  The house looked the same, all brick and perfectly tended gardens, which were Spencer’s mom’s pride and joy. He fumbled his way up to the door and rang the bell before he could lose his nerve.  Spencer answered the door seconds later looking a little disheveled, but Jon didn’t care, happy to be seeing him at all.  They stood there for a moment before Spencer moved aside, a silent invitation.

     “It looks different,” Jon noted, breaking the silence.

      “Yeah, my mom got a new couch and stuff,” Spencer said rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and Jon spotted his shirt on the edge of the new couch.

     “Is this it?”  he asked Spencer, wanting to know if he’d just been called over for just the shirt.

     “Yeah, I washed it,” Spencer said, and his face was flushing bright red.  Before everything, Jon would have asked why, but that was then, and this was now.

      “Oh, okay, thanks, I guess.”  The silence was unbearable, but neither of them was eager to break it. Jon noted that he wouldn’t be able to wear the black shirt ever again, not after Spencer had looked so good in it, and especially not now that it smelled like Spencer and whatever laundry detergent he used. He needed to know that this stupid shirt wasn’t the only reason he was asked to come over.

     “Why did you ask me here Spencer?”  he asked suddenly, looking at the shirt in his hands, and Spencer began to panic.

     “I told you, I had your shirt, and -.”

     “You didn’t ask me to drive all the way over here for a shirt, did you?  You would have brought it to school, like you said.  You’re Spencer, and you’re all practical like that.  I know you.” Jon wanted to hear Spencer say that he missed Jon as much as Jon missed him.

     “Okay, fine… It’s Brendon and Ryan,” he sighed sitting on the couch, and Jon’s stomach dropped.

     “Oh, what?” 

     “It’s not working.  Ryan won’t answer any of the texts sent through us from Brendon, and he’s not writing at all anymore.  They can’t speak to each other -.”  Jon frowned.

     “They have to. It’s for class,” Jon cut Spencer off.

     “After what Ryan did to Brendon? No way.”  Jon was angry, remembering again why he and Spencer didn’t speak.

     “Brendon hit him first!”  Spencer shook his head.

     “I don’t mean the fight. That was both of their faults, just like always.  I mean Brendon outing Ryan. That was too fucked up to forgive.”  And Jon was confused because what?

     “What are you talking about?”  Spencer glared at him.

     “Don’t play dumb, Jon.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.  After the party at Bill’s freshman year, Brendon went to Ryan’s house…” he trailed off, and Jon shook his head, still not understanding. Spencer rolled his eyes, “and told his parents that Ryan was gay.  He got him kicked out of his house for a year, and you know that. He had to stay with me.”  Jon was shaking his head rapidly. No, that was not something Brendon would do, especially since Brendon’s own parents had kicked him out for being gay, which was why he lived in Chicago with his grandmother.

     “That’s – no. Where the fuck did you hear that? Brendon would never, ever do that.  It’s Ryan’s fault we’re all in this mess. If he hadn’t humiliated Brendon at that party… He was brand new, and Ryan latched on to him and made his life hell at school. All those fucking kids took pictures, Spencer, and spread them around. Ryan did that, and apparently getting the new kid in bed was some sort of fucked up game,” Jon said defending his friend.  Spencer was the one who was confused now.

     “That was an accident, Jon. You can’t believe Ryan would actually do something like that.  He said he went to get a condom from William… he had no idea anyone would find Brendon.  Fuck, he was drunk and not thinking and he left the door unlocked. He wouldn’t have hurt him. Do you not remember how crazy he over him?” Jon frowned because something wasn’t adding up, and someone had to be lying. He was just sure it wasn’t Brendon.

     “Listen, I don’t know what the hell happened that night, but you weren’t there. You didn’t have to take care of some fifteen year old kid who’d just been caught, practically naked, by a bunch of strangers. And Brendon did not out Ryan, by the way, he just – he wouldn’t do that!”

     “Of course,” Spencer snorted, “Saint Brendon would never hurt a fly, except for when he’s slamming its head into the ground.”  Jon backed away from Spencer; he wasn’t going to listen to this.

     “Okay, stop,” Jon’s voice was serious and angry, “Brendon is a good person, and when it comes to picking a side, I will always pick his.” Jon was walking to the door, and Spencer wished he could just rewind the past ten minutes and not bring up Brendon or Ryan at all.  When Jon reached the door, he stopped and said over his shoulder, “Brendon’s parents kicked him out for being gay.  That’s why he left Vegas to come here, so no, he would never do that to someone.  He knows how it feels.”  Then Jon was gone, and Spencer felt his anxiety bubbling up. If it was true that Brendon was kicked out of his house for being gay, the odds of him doing it to someone else was nearly impossible. Even with all the animosity between them, Spencer didn’t think he was capable of that.

     He knew he needed to talk to Ryan immediately, and he called him with shaking hands.

     “Hey, listen, this is going to sound weird, but I’ll explain everything later.  I just need you to tell me exactly what happened when your parents kicked you out.” He was being blunt, yes, but he didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

     “I told you.  Brendon told them what happened between us at the party, and they told me to get out.” Ryan sounded annoyed and confused by the inquiry and the abrupt phone call.

     “They said that Brendon came by?  They said his name specifically?”  Ryan was quiet for a moment, and Spencer was holding his breath as he waited for an answer.

     “No, I don’t think so… but what does it matter?  He’s the only one who would have screwed me over that way.”  Spencer stammered out a quick apology for calling, telling him they could talk later and said goodbye. Spencer had no clue what to do with the information he had.  Was Jon right?  Could it all just be a huge misunderstanding?  Could Spencer have lost Jon over nothing?  He needed to know for sure that Brendon didn’t do it before he could tell Ryan that they’d made a mistake. He was dialing William’s number, hoping he could give him his answer.

     “Hey, Bill,” Spencer said.  They had a short conversation filled with small talk mainly because Spencer didn’t think he could get away with just asking like he had with Brendon.

     “Uh, anyway, listen, I know this is random, but do you remember that huge blowout party you had at the beginning of freshman year?”  William told him he did, vividly despite being plastered.

     “Okay, good. Did you talk to Brendon after that party at all?”  William thought back hard, and he said he remembered vaguely calling Brendon after the whole thing to invite him to something…

     “Oh!” William remembered, “I got his number and called him the next day to see if he wanted to get out with me and Gabe to a movie.  I knew he was upset about what happened, and I wanted to cheer him up, let him know we weren’t all assholes, but he couldn’t.”  Spencer frowned. If Brendon didn’t have an alibi, then there was no way to know for sure.

     “Yeah, he wasn’t in town,” Bill told him, and Spencer breathed in sharply, “I think he said he was in Vegas visiting his family or something. He was gone for a few days after that, I think. Like a whole week. He missed school, remember?”  Spencer felt an odd emotion, something like hope and absolute dread mixed into one.  Brendon wasn’t in Chicago, wasn’t even in the state which meant that there was no way he could have been in Vegas and at Ryan’s house at the same time.  Spencer rushed off the phone with William, and sat back on his couch. If Brendon hadn’t outed him, Ryan was not going to take it well because it would mean that everything was his fault, not Brendon’s.

\---

     It was Saturday, and the newly dubbed Fall Out Boy had a gig.  They went on in ten minutes, and Pete was nowhere to be found, which led to Patrick pacing and, once again, he was pissed. 

     “Hey guys, can we get you in the wing?  You’re on in seven.”  Scratch that, they went on in seven minutes, and Pete still wasn’t there.  He hated that Joe and Andy were acting like nothing was wrong, and Patrick eyed them, wanting to take that stupid guitar in Joe’s hands and smack him with it.

    “We’re coming,” Patrick told the guy as the door shut behind him, and Patrick decided they didn’t need Pete.  Brendon was in the crowd somewhere, he thought, and he had been to their shows before, and thankfully, he could play by ear.  All they had to do was pull him up, give him a bass, and start the show.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and moved out of the uncomfortable chair to head out and look for Brendon.  He’d never played a show without Pete before, but there was a first time for everything. He hadn’t taken two steps away from his chair when the door opened, and Pete, hood up and head down, came in.  Patrick felt a relief come over him, and he hated himself for it.  He shouldn’t be – he wasn’t – dependent on Pete.

     “Where the fuck have you been?” Patrick asked the other boy heatedly, but Pete didn’t answer him.  Instead he walked right by Patrick as though he hadn’t even seen him.

     “Pete!” Patrick raised his voice and still nothing.  Patrick clamped his hand around Pete’s arm and spun him around.  Pete pulled his hood back aggressively, and that’s when Patrick saw the  bright green ear buds.  Pete pulled one out, furious.

     “What’s your problem?”  Patrick immediately felt like the biggest asshole on earth, though, Pete was a close second.

     “N-nothing,” he stuttered as Pete turned from him and threw his jacket down on the chair Patrick had once been sitting on. Patrick continued to stare at Pete, unsure of what to say and afraid that he might set Pete off more.

     “What?” Pete looked back at him and threw his arms up, and Patrick looked away quickly.

     “We go on in five.”  Pete didn’t say anything, but Patrick was sure he had heard him this time.  He picked up his guitar and left Pete in the dressing room with Joe and Andy, who were obviously uncomfortable.  Pete ignored them and pulled out his bass. He was still hurt about Jake or Jack or whatever, and he knew it was ridiculous because Patrick had dated and kissed other guys before, but he’d never ditched Pete to leave with someone else or skip practice without a legitimate reason. He may have felt like an ass, but he couldn’t ignore what he was feeling. He grabbed his bass, ready to make the best of the night because it didn’t matter if he and Patrick were fighting.  They always had to put on a show.

\---

     The show had gone really well despite the rocky beginning.  At first, Pete kept his distance from Patrick on stage, but towards the end of the show, he couldn’t help but move close, the way he always did.  Hearing his words coming from Patrick was a high for Pete, and everyone watching could see that. Patrick could feel Pete breathing on his neck, and he wondered briefly if he had been forgiven, but it occurred to him that he hadn’t done anything that needed forgiving.  He hated Pete for the conflicting emotions he put him through, but he didn’t move away as Pete got closer.  He could feel him mouthing the words into his neck, and it was, in a way, comforting to Patrick because he was used to that part. Pete had a bad habit of not keeping to himself, but it wasn’t until Pete placed an open mouth kiss to the nape of his neck that Patrick faltered and missed a note. That was new. Suddenly, Pete was gone, and Patrick could see him on the opposite end of the stage, leaving him questioning if it had even happened.

     Patrick rushed out of the venue after the show without as much as a goodbye to anyone.

\---

          Ryan was sitting on his bed throwing yet another crumpled up paper with some piece-of-shit lyrics into his over-flowing trash can when it happened.  His phone buzzed, and was not at all out of the ordinary, except that it was, because it was Ryan.  Ryan almost dropped the cell phone, and he stared at the name on the text message for a minute, waiting for it to change into Spencer’s name or Pete’s or Gabe’s, or any-fucking-body’s.  He couldn’t believe that Ryan would have kept his number, but he should because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t kept Ryan’s. He wondered again if the whole thing was an accident, but his brain was yelling at him to just read the damn thing already.

     He clicked on the message (still, to his surprise, bearing Ryan’s name) and read it carefully.  It was simple enough:  _Is this still Ryan Ross’ number?_

     Ryan wasn’t ashamed to say that it took him ten minutes to figure out how to say yes.  He didn’t want to sound too nice because this was, after all, the boy that had broken his face one too many times, but he also didn’t want to sound like an asshole because – just because.  He finally settled on the unassuming, _yes_ , and frowned as he sent it because honestly, he did just spend ten minutes on ‘yes’. He realized after he sent it that he should have asked who was texting him because he didn’t want Ryan to think that he’d kept his number after all this time. He waited impatiently for the next text, hoping to God that it came before Ryan died of suspense. 

     After seven minutes, he stopped staring at his phone.  He didn’t know what the hell the text was supposed to mean, but seven minutes must’ve meant no reply.  He made it through fifteen seconds before he was staring at his phone again, and he thought the current week may have been one of the weirdest weeks of his life.  First, there was Spencer’s odd (and short) call about Ryan, which he still needed to talk to him about, and then there had been Ashlee’s request for him to perform “Nine in the Afternoon” for the class (which he was still thinking about). After that he had gotten William’s call about firecrackers and peanut butter in the bedroom (but Ryan chocked that up to alcohol), and now, the mysterious text from Ryan.  Ryan didn’t know what to make of the last one, but he tried again to put his phone down and ignore it.  He picked up his pen to write some more shitty lyrics when his phone buzzed again, and Ryan threw his pen down so hard it bounced off the bed, and he grabbed for his phone, fumbling.

     After mentally scolding himself for his overzealousness, he pushed to read the message.  _This is Ryan.  I thought it might be easier to just text you about the song than make Jon text Spencer and then you. If not then I’ll just keep having Jon and Spencer text you._   Ryan read the message a few times before he really understood what Ryan was saying.  Number one, he doesn’t think Ryan has his number saved anymore, and number two, he wanted to text Ryan himself, which was.. good?  Ryan didn’t take as long to reply this time, sending off his answer before he could change his mind.  Part of him (a big part) wanted to tell Ryan to fuck off, but another, much bigger part, wanted to be able to speak with him.  Not only about the project, Ryan admitted to himself, but also what exactly happened that made Ryan turn on him the way he did.  So he had said, _No, it’s okay._

     It didn’t take Ryan long to text back this time, sending:  _Okay, do you have any lyrics yet?_   Ryan stared down at the blank page in front of him and lied.

     _Yeah, do you have any music?_   Ryan thought maybe if he got a melody into his head, the words would come much easier.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to come up with anything on his own at the moment, and Ryan was supposed to be the musical prodigy.

     _Yes and no.  I have some stuff, but words help._   Ryan didn’t like the answer because he knew soon Ryan would be asking him to send him something.  He thought about calling Pete really quickly and seeing if he had anything lying around, but that was cheating.  He wished he could get some inspiration, but no matter what he did, nothing was coming.  He shot back a fast text saying, _they’re still rough drafts, but I’ll send you a bit when it’s right._   It occurred to him then that he and Ryan were having a full on civil conversation, and it was surprising to him how… easy it came to him.

     Ryan’s reply was: _okay._   Ryan didn’t want to say anything else, wanting to remain civil for the moment. He sighed pushing his paper away from him and went to his window, where the rain was coming down hard like it had been all week.  _Another downpour_ , he thought as the weather vane on his neighbor’s house spun rapidly in the wind, catching his attention and holding it.  He was beginning to think he was never going to think of a song for the project.  Inspiration was in short supply it seemed. 

      He glanced back once more at the notebook on his bed and groaned.  He was never going to come up with anything.

\---

     It was Sunday night, and Patrick was livid… again, and he was beginning to think he was going to be angry forever.  Gabe had made yet another call on Pete’s behalf, but he wasn’t having it, and he hadn’t even said a word before hanging up on the boy, He was over this shit, over Pete’s fucking drama.

     He whipped his mom’s car into Pete’s circular driveway, ignoring the rain pounding on his head, and he angrily stormed up to Pete’s door.  Patrick took a moment to appreciate the fact that Pete’s parents were gone on business again because things were going to get ugly. He began beating his fist on the door, and he could hear Pete jogging to the door. He even hated the sounds Pete made when he moved.  Hemingway’s nails dragged on the hardwood floor as he skid to the door as well, excited for a new person in the house.  Pete threw open the door after looking through the window at a soaked Patrick.

     “You’re making a habit of this,” Pete said smirking, and it made Patrick so mad, this back and forth bullshit Pete always pulled, that he lashed out.  His fist connected with Pete’s cheek before he even got inside, and it felt so – exhilarating to finally get his aggression out.  Pete was holding the right side of his face, staring in shock at Patrick as he slammed the door behind him. He didn’t need any witnesses when he killed Pete.

     “What the fuck, Patrick?”  Pete was still clutching his cheek when Patrick pushed him back, further into the oversized foyer.  He couldn’t tell if he was shaking because he was drenched and cold or because he was finally letting everything out.

     “You are an asshole,” he yelled. He shoved Pete again, and the dark haired boy stumbled back.  Hemingway was barking loudly at them, and the rain was still coming down hard, and Patrick wasn’t thinking as he continued to go after Pete.  After shoving him back again, Pete was spitting with anger and Patrick was glad because he was finally getting a reaction out of him.

     “Patrick, I know you’re a little slow right now, so I’m going to let you explain yourself before I beat the shit out of you.”  Patrick laughed.

     “I don’t think I could explain it in a way that your fucked up brain could even begin to comprehend,” Patrick said, and he was coming closer to Pete, ready to give the hitting thing another go.  Pete was ready to defend himself this time, and when Patrick swung at him again, he dodged.  Patrick slid forward, his wet shoes squealing on the hardwood floor.  Pete was going to laugh, but honestly, the look on Patrick’s face when he turned around terrified him.  Patrick rushed him, and Pete’s back collided with the wall; they struggled but Patrick continued to push him harder into the wall, and when Pete’s head bounced off the hard surface again, he growled.

     “Fucking stop.”  Patrick looked at him like he was accepting a challenge and pushed him again.  Pete used as much force as he could muster and surged forward, knocking Patrick to the ground, his soaking hat flying off.  Pete straddled him, forcing his arms down.

     “I told you to stop,” he said again, voice low.  Patrick was so full of anger, and he wanted nothing more than to bang Pete’s head off the wall again – or maybe the banister; it was closer.  Patrick wiggled underneath Pete, trying to fee his arms and dislodge the skinny kid who shouldn’t be able to overpower him.  He could feel Pete’s hands flexing on his wrists over and over again, trying to keep a grip on his rain slicked skin.

    “Patrick, goddamn it, stop! What is going on?”  Patrick only moved more, struggling and bucking his hips to dislodge him. Pete’s eyes closed, and Patrick pushed his hips up again, only to realize why Pete wanted him to stop in the first place. He was getting hard, and Patrick’s struggles lessened enough that Pete opened his eyes to stare at him.  Patrick didn’t know what possessed him but he pushed up again, testing Pete to see what he was going to do, and he wondered when he had gone from wanting to kill Pete to wanting to fuck him instead.

    “Stop, please,” Pete’s voice was still low, but there was a gruff quality to it now, and Patrick pressed up once more. He needed to know what happened if he didn’t stop. Pete swallowed the groan that built in his throat.  Patrick could hear the desperation in his voice, but he wasn’t really listening.  He moved his hips up, but it was different this time because there was Pete finally rolling his hips down to meet him.  It was no revelation to Patrick that he had gotten hard from Pete’s reaction, but it seemed to surprise Pete and spur him on to continue meeting Patrick’s movements.  The rhythm settling between them was so, so good, and then Pete moved his hips down particularly hard, and Patrick moaned involuntarily.  It took Patrick a moment to realize that Pete had released his wrists and was now pressing his palms into the floor on either side of his arms.

     “You can say no,” Pete mumbled.  Patrick didn’t know what that was supposed to mean; say no to what?  His hips stuttered on Patrick’s, and he said it again, “you can say no.”  Patrick shook his head, not in protest, but in confusion.  Pete was breathing heavily over him, and Patrick heard him say it once more, and it was sad this time, and Patrick almost said it just to please Pete.

     “Pete.”  It was the first thing he’d said since the fighting had stopped and – whatever this was- had begun.  Pete huffed and dipped down so quickly Patrick almost didn’t register what was happening.  All he really knew was that he wasn’t cold anymore despite still being completely drenched and that Pete was shivering against him (most likely because Patrick’s clothes were soaked and now so were Pete’s). He also knew that Pete’s mouth was just as smooth as it had been when he was fourteen, but this kiss was much different.  It was rough and hot and less sloppy than it had been before. Patrick’s sore wrists burned where Pete had gripped them so tightly, but he moved his hands up to Pete’s neck anyway, pulling him as close as he could.  His hips jerked up violently when Pete sunk his teeth into his lip.

     Then he felt tugging on his jacket, and Pete was pulling Patrick’s back off the floor to pull it off.  Patrick let him, of course, because who was he to deny Pete Wentz right now?  He let Pete continue to lick into his mouth and thrust against him, his skin hot to the touch.  Pete’s arms were wrapped around his arms, pulling him up to sit, and Patrick decided that he would do absolutely anything to stay there, Pete straddling his lap.  Patrick was clutching Pete’s neck and bicep so firmly that we could swear he felt the outlines of the tattoos stained on Pete’s skin.  Patrick was so close, and he was afraid that he was going to come in his jeans. 

     As Pete ground down on him, Patrick wondered how the hell they had gotten to this point so quickly. They had just been fighting…  Was Pete just distracting him so he wouldn’t be pissed anymore?  He stopped kissing Pete and began pushing him off.

     “No,” he said, and it occurred to him finally why Pete had wanted him to say it in the first place.  Pete was still breathing like a freight train on top of him, and they were both sitting there, hard, in rain soaked clothes, but he kept pushing Pete off his lap, ignoring the ridiculously sad look on his face.  He stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall, and knew just how absurd he must have looked, so hard and wanting nothing more than to get back on the floor with Pete and get off already.

     “No,” he said again, more to himself than to Pete.  He didn’t bother with his jacket, which held the keys to his mom’s car, or even his hat.  He just ran and ran and ran until he was standing on his own porch.  He slumped against his front door, and sniffed because he’d been unwillingly crying all the way home.  He wiped his eyes, but it was pointless when the tears just kept coming.

     The storm kept raging on, and Patrick dropped to the floor of his porch.


	3. Chapter 3

**September 2012**

     Patrick had woken up to the sound of his cell phone ringing continuously.   He rolled over, pulling the pillow next to him over his head, and groaned loudly.  He waited the phone out, of course, because it was a fucking Monday, and he had just had one of the worst nights of his life.  When the ringing finally stopped, he burrowed deeper into his bed, wishing the ugly day away.  After it rained, the sky looked grey and mocking, like it was threating to rain all over again. 

     His phone began ringing again.

     “Oh my God!”  He shouted, the sound muffled by his pillow, and he thrashed until he was uncovered and staggered to his desk where the culprit phone sat.  The caller ID said ‘Ryan’ and Patrick couldn’t think of a damn thing that couldn’t wait until school in – Patrick checked the clock, 7:18 – forty-two minutes.  He jabbed the talk button.

     “Hello?”

     “Patrick!  Hey, sorry about calling you a thousand times, but I need you to do something for me today in music.  Ashlee wants me to perform ‘Nine’ , and I’m sure as hell not singing it.  You’ve played it with me before and I thought maybe you could –“

     “Fine,” he said, still irritated, not really at Ryan, but about being awake in general.  He just wanted to be back in his bed, not going to class, and certainly not singing some song Ryan wrote.

     “Patrick?”  Ryan asked carefully.

     “What,” he snapped.  He wanted to take it back instantly because Ryan hadn’t done anything, “sorry.  Shitty night,” He said, not willing to elaborate… definitely not.  Ryan was quite on the other end for a minute, and Patrick thought he might have hung up on him,

     “Yeah, sorry, I’ve been calling for a while.  I didn’t sleep much at all, and Brendon kept texting me about runs and riffs and stuff.  The project, you know,” Ryan said.  Patrick was surprised that Brendon and Ryan were speaking even if it was just texts, and he was even more surprised at how casual Ryan seemed about the whole thing.  Last time he’d see the two of them, they’d still been baring the remnants of their last fist fight. Speaking of fight, he wondered if Pete would have any bruises… and then he wanted to throw himself out the window for thinking about it.

     “He’s kind of an insomniac, I think.”  Patrick knew all about that one.

     “Yeah, Pete has a bad habit of texting and calling people at four AM.  He thinks if he’s up, so is all of Chicago,” he said, terrified that something in his voice was going to give away the fact that he and Pete had just about fucked with their clothes on the night before.  Ryan hummed on the other end of the line. 

     “Why do guys like us, who actually enjoy sleep, get stuck working with the freaks of nature?” Patrick continued.

     Ryan laughed at that, “lucky? I guess…”

     “Hey, sorry again about being a dick. I’ll help you out. See you in a few?” he asked, shuffling to the bathroom.  He might as well start getting ready if he was going to go to school.

     “Yeah, see you there,” Ryan said, “thanks again, Patrick!”  He hung up leaving Patrick to the quiet room.  His parents had already left for work at the hospital, and he knew he could get away with skipping if only Ryan hadn’t asked him to help him out.

     “Damn it,” he mumbled under his breath.  He showered (where he didn’t think of Pete), got dressed (still not thinking about him), and ate his breakfast (not thinking of Pete some more).  It wasn’t until he was about to leave that he thought of him.

     “Fucking Pete!”  He said out loud.  His mother’s car was still at Pete’s house, and he was more than lucky his parents let him use her car to get him to school, or they would have killed him for leaving it elsewhere. The fucking keys, he thought, were still at Pete’s, too.  He had no way to get to school now, and he just – fuck – he was so pissed _all_ the goddamn time now, and it was all Pete’s fault as far as he was concerned.  Patrick had to call someone to come get him, and he figured Andy was his best bet since he lived the closest.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and was dialing when he looked out the window by chance.

     And there was the car.  _What the fuck_ , he thought.  Patrick shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked out to the car, which he still couldn’t believe was there.  He could see his jacket, hat, and keys sitting in the driver’s seat as he approached, and a small yellow sticky note held in place by the windshield wipers caught his eye.  He leaned over the hood and pulled it from its spot, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

_Things aren’t the same anymore.  Some nights it gets so bad.  I almost pick up the phone._

     Patrick stared at it for a while before shoving it into his pocket, unsure of what it meant.  He just wanted to finish classes today, help Ryan out on his song, and then go and sleep for the rest of his life.  He was so tired of lying down and letting Pete walk all over him with some nice, vague words on random pieces of paper.

\---

     Jon smiled at the giggling young girls as they took their various frappachinos off the counter.  He had come into Starbucks at five AM to fill in for a friend, but only until 7:30, which was soon, and Jon was ready to get out.  He and Becca were the only ones there, and it was one of their busier mornings.  He left Becca to the counter and moved over to the drive-thru, attempting to get a Venti Latte with soy through the small window without spilling it.  He liked working with Becca more than anyone else because they moved well together in the tiny space behind the counter, and she seemed to always know where she needed to be next, and Jon took over wherever she wasn’t.

     “I’d like the Peppermint Mocha and make it a big one, doll.”  Jon could tell already that it was Brendon, and he snickered when Becca, who was well acquainted with Brendon’s antics, told him they weren’t selling it yet.

     “Becca, babe, come on and make an exception,” Brendon whined.  Jon looked over his shoulder and saw Brendon leaning over the counter, holding Becca’s hand, “if you do, I’ll take you away from all this, real _Officer and A Gentleman_ type of thing with a hat!”  She laughed, pulled her hand out of Brendon’s and pat him on the head.

     “I’m tempted, believe me, but you’re so gay that I think the sex would suck.”  Jon came over then, relieving Becca, but Brendon was still pouting, and he shouted after her, “I’d man up and make it good for you!”  Jon was thankful that the coffee shop’s patrons weren’t paying attention them.

     “I’m about to get out, do you seriously want something?”  Brendon shook his head.

     “Nah, I came to give you a ride to school.”  Jon didn’t have to drive usually since his apartment was only a few blocks from Starbucks and he had been planning on taking the bus to school, but if Brendon was offering, he’d take it. Brendon told him he’d wait for him in the car, and Jon glanced at the clock, overjoyed to see it was 7:28.  He started towards the employee door, but heard an “excuse me” from the counter.  He frowned, wanting to just get going, but time was money, and he wasn’t about to give up a possible tip.  He spun around, smile on his face and saw Spencer, who looked just as surprised to see Jon as Jon was him.

     “Hey, uhm, what can I get for you?” Jon asked awkwardly, watching Spencer fidget with the twenty dollar bill in his hands.

     “Uhm, just two black coffees, Venti,” he added as an afterthought.  Jon nodded and rang him up, giving Spencer the total.

     “Keep the change,” Spencer told him quietly, and Jon was dying, he was sure of it.  He’d never felt so awkward in his life.  He murmured thanks, dropping the change into the tip jar and set to work on pouring the coffee when Spencer spoke again.

     “So, uh, thanks for making Brendon text Ryan.  It’s a lot easier than relaying the message,” Spencer was now fidgeting with the edge of his jacket, and Jon wanted to reach out and hold them, calm them.

     “Yeah, sure.  I’m grateful for the break in hostility to be honest.  Even though it won’t last, I’d bet” Jon said pushing the lids down on the large cups and sliding them over the counter for him. Spencer didn’t say anything, but he nodded because he knew Jon was probably right.  Odds were that the first time Ryan and Brendon were talking face to face, all civility would go out the window.  Spencer grabbed the coffees with a tight smile.

     “I’ll – I’ll see you in class, then,” Spencer said quickly, and then he was gone.  Jon pushed to the back, changed his clothes for school, and said goodbye to Becca.  He didn’t really want to go to class, but Brendon was waiting on him, and Jon wasn’t going to make him face Ryan on his own.

     Jon couldn’t have missed Brendon’s hideous purple van even if he tried. He hopped in the passenger seat and threw his clothes in the backseat as Brendon started the engine.  He was quiet, and it struck Jon how odd that was given what a good mood the boy had been in a few minutes ago.

     “Spencer was here,” Brendon said as if Jon hadn’t noticed.

     “Yep.”  He didn’t exactly know what Brendon wanted to hear, and he waited in silence for Brendon to peel out of the parking lot, music pouring through his speakers.  Today was going to be a classical day, then.  Jon just tapped his fingers along with the piano and closed his eyes, not wanting to talk about Spencer with Brendon at all.

     Brendon looked over at his best friend and his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel because Jon may have thought he was oblivious to it all, but Brendon wasn’t an idiot.  Jon was into Spencer, and he saw it.  He’d known for a while, ever since Spencer had been caught in the cross fire of one of his and Ryan’s fights.  The way Jon had rushed to the blonde’s side after Ryan nailed Spencer in the jaw with one of his bony elbows had given him away.  Brendon was torn between fighting with Ryan and wanting his best friend to be happy.

     He turned up the radio, ignoring the guilt in his stomach.

\---

     The song had gone well for Ryan and Patrick, and everyone had enjoyed it (except Pete, who wasn’t there much to Patrick’s disappointment because he had sounded good, damn it), applauding the boys until Ashlee shushed them down.

     “Alright, thank you Ryan and Patrick for that performance.  I really appreciate you two playing for us today, but now it’s time to.  I want you all to get together in your groups, but not in the classroom,” she said, and was glad to see that perked everyone up, “instead, I want you to find a place on campus that will inspire you.  It can be the art room or the auditorium or outside… anywhere that you find enjoyable.  Just keep it on campus; you’ve got forty-five minutes before we’ll meet back here, and I’ll be taking a headcount when you get back so don’t disappear,” Ashlee instructed the students and then dismissed them.  Everyone clambered into their groups to discuss where to go. 

     Ryan, Spencer, Jon, and Brendon found themselves in the deserted senior courtyard at one of the round concrete tables, Ryan and Spencer on one curved bench and Brendon and Jon on the other.  They each seemed to be in their own worlds, even though there wouldn’t have been much conversation anyway.  Brendon and Ryan still weren’t talking in person, which was probably best given that verbal talks turned into physical fights in their case.  Plus, Brendon was too focused to fight with Ryan because ever since he’d seen Jon and Spencer’s interaction that morning, he couldn’t stop feeling like he was cheating his best friend out of happiness.  Ryan, on the other hand, was too busy writing.  After the phone call he’d made to Patrick, he’d gotten the idea for a song, but he hated that Brendon and his insomnia were the only thing that were inspiring him anymore.

     Spencer, zoned out on the tapping of Ryan’s pen against the table, was thinking about what Jon and William had told him, and it was all he thought about anymore.  Brendon was apparently not guilty, though he had no way to know for sure that he really was out of town.  He thought briefly about calling Brendon and asking him where he’d been the few days after he and Ryan almost had sex at William’s party but decided that probably wasn’t the best route.  He could ask Ryan’s parents to describe the boy that came to their door confessing to messing around with Ryan… he didn’t know how well that would go over though, bringing up the time they kicked their son out of the house.  He sighed loudly, on accident, and attracted the attention of the entire table, including Jon, who was going over the meeting with Spencer at Starbucks.  Brendon had been acting weird ever since, and it just showed Jon that he could never confess to Brendon his feelings about Spencer.  The whole thing was too fucked to even try and fix.

     “What is it?”  Ryan asked Spencer quietly in response to the his sigh.

     “It’s nothing,” Spencer said, eyes darting to Jon, then back to Ryan so quickly Jon wasn’t even sure it had happened.  Brendon noticed, though, and the miserable look on Jon and Spencer’s face triggered something on Brendon’s more serious and adult side. It was the side that knew that one day he’d look back on high school and Ryan and wonder why the hell it had even mattered in the first place.

     “Ryan,” Brendon said, as evenly as possible, but Ryan’s first name felt foreign now after years of avoiding it.  Ryan looked at Spencer first, sure that he was the only one who would have said his name, but Spencer was looking at Brendon, and Jon was looking at Brendon, and now Ryan was too, eyes laughably wide.

     “Y - yeah?”  Ryan stuttered out. He couldn’t believe Brendon was speaking to him without an insult following.

     “I, uh, I left some sheet music I wrote up in the music room. If you want to see it, you can run back with me.”  Ryan was so confused and it made no sense for Brendon to ask him to go.  Jon was there, hell, Spencer was there.  They hated each other and nothing was right about it, but Ryan said, “okay.”  Brendon nodded, convinced he was doing the right thing and got up, waiting for Ryan to follow him.  Ryan felt Spencer grab his wrist under the table and squeeze harshly.  Ryan knew that the look that followed meant to “be careful.”  Ryan said nothing, but nodded sharply before getting up to follow Brendon into the school, leaving Spencer and Jon alone.

     When Brendon rounded the corner, Ryan in tow, he stopped abruptly and turned around to face the taller boy.  Ryan almost slammed into Brendon, but stopped on the tips of his toes and pushed himself backwards instead.  He really didn’t feel like fighting with Brendon today.

     “Listen, we’re not friends,” Brendon said harshly, and Ryan was taken aback.  Was this honestly what Brendon dragged him away to say?  “We’re not friends,” he repeated continuing, “but I think we need to have a truce, at least around Jon and Spencer.”  Ryan agreed, but he didn’t let Brendon know that.

     “Why?”  Ryan asked, playing dumb even though he had a sneaking suspicion about where the conversation was headed.  Brendon had probably figured out what Ryan had known for a long time: that Spencer was in love with Jon, and Ryan couldn’t have been more relieved.  He hated feeling like he was keeping Spencer unhappy just because Brendon was the biggest assface on the planet.

     Brendon rolled his eyes, annoyed, “because they’re not the problem, dumbass, and we shouldn’t keep dragging them into this shit.”  Ryan took the name calling in stride because it wasn’t anything new, and he had just been thinking the same thing.

     “Fine, truce.  For Spencer,” Ryan said.  Regardless of how innocent and likable Jon Walker was, Ryan wasn’t going to admit that he missed his old friend.

     “For Jon,” Brendon said, crossing his arms. 

     “Do you even have any music to show us?”  Ryan asked, and Brendon smirked.

     “Nope.  God, Ross, you’re one gullible fucker aren’t you?”  Brendon was gone before Ryan could punch him in his stupid smug face.

\---

     “Is it dead?”

     “Smells like it, but I think it’s breathing.”

     Pete groaned from under his sheets.  He didn’t want to see anyone, just stay in bed all day, Hemingway a warm blob on his side.  He felt the covers being pulled back and almost hissed at the sunlight beaming in through his window.  He could see Gabe and William at the foot of his bed bearing soup.

     “You weren’t at school today, Petey, and we missed you,” Gabe said setting the soup on Pete’s cluttered nightstand, “so we came with soup.”  William chuckled as Gabe tugged the sheets off Pete even more and curled his body around Pete’s, spooning him.  Hemingway was up and sniffing out the soup on the nightstand, but Pete knocked the dog gently off the bed, and murmured, “my soup.”  William took in Pete’s pale skin and the dark purple circles around his eyes.  He looked (and smelled) like he hadn’t showered and had stayed in bed in the same clothes all day.  William slipped his shoes off and climbed into the bed with Pete and Gabe, facing the two boys, and slid his hand over Pete’s side to lay Gabe’s side.

     “What’s going on with you?”  William asked him, settling his forehead against Pete’s clammy one, but Pete closed his eyes tight signaling that he didn’t want to talk about it.

     “It’s Patrick, isn’t it?” Gabe asked angrily and Pete’s body shook slightly.  William shot his boyfriend a mouthed, “shut the fuck up”, and Gabe just rolled his eyes, burrowing further into Pete’s back.  William was sure it was Patrick, but it had never been this bad before.

     “When do your parents get back?” William asked instead, knowing how shitty it was to have parents that were always gone on business. His mother was rarely home herself, and he sometimes thought his dad lived at his club.  Yes, the money supply was awesome, but the lonely part wasn’t so much.

     “Thursday,” Pete said voice raspy.  William didn’t reply, but he smoothed a kiss over Pete’s forehead trying to show him that he was there for him.  They were silent for a good hour, drifting in and out of sleep before Gabe spoke.

     “Okay, dude, you have to shower, like now.”  William watched as Pete miraculously listened, untangled himself from Gabe and William, and headed to the bathroom.  When he heard the water start, Gabe slid into Pete’s former spot, molding his body to William’s.

     “How the hell...”

     “Cobra.”  Gabe interrupted Bill, kissing him.  William loved kissing Gabe because it always felt like the first time (yeah, he was a corny jackass, but as long as Gabe wasn’t complaining…).  Gabe pulled away before William could deepen the kiss any further.

     “What do you think happened?”  William shrugged as best he could while lying on his side.

     “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s big.  Pete and Patrick break-up and make-up for a living, but they’re avoiding each other now…”

     “I feel like I may have fucked up,” Gabe said, “I called Patrick, twice, to ask what he did to make Pete so upset.” William laughed a little and nuzzled his nose into Gabe’s collarbone.

     “If Patrick and Pete fight, it’s because they want to.  They may use other people as an excuse, but they don’t do anything they don’t want to. But you do need to back off. It’s none of your business.”  Gabe and William didn’t understanding why two people in love had such a hard time admitting it to acting on it because it was so easy for them. 

     “I’m glad you’re not stupid like all these other boys,” Gabe said into William’s hair, and William laughed, the sound reminding Gabe of how much he was going to miss the other boy when college came around.  He still hadn’t told William that he wanted to go to NYU.  They had always planned to go to the University of Chicago together, but Gabe wanted to go to New York more than he could explain, and he was afraid of how Bill would take the news.

    “You picked me because I was easy, didn’t you?”

     “Exactly, I wanted a good, easy lay and there you were,” Gabe said, shoving NYU into the back of his mind.  Now wasn’t the time to get into anything with William, especially with Pete, Patrick, and the other boys being such morons.

     “More like a great, easy lay,” William smiled pressing his lips to Gabe’s neck.  They stayed quietly in Pete’s bed, just enjoying each other’s company when Pete came back into the room.  His hair was still damp, but he was wearing new boxers and smelled better already.  He was rushing to his desk in a way that had William a little worried, and he watched as Pete riffled through the pile of papers on his desk before finding a pad of post-its.  He began jotting something down quickly and when he was done, he looked back at Gabe and William, almost surprised to see them still there.

     “I need you to do something for me,” he said.

\---

     “That sounds so fucking stupid.  You totally ripped that off of a book, Ross. I’ve read the goddamn thing!”

     “Bullshit, you’re the one with the bright idea to sing about a painting!”

     “It’s not about the actual Mona Lisa, fucking idiot!”

     Jon could hear Brendon and Ryan arguing in Spencer’s basement all the way in the living room, where he and Spencer were attempting to move Brendon’s keyboard downstairs while Brendon and Ryan discussed (or screamed about) the lyrics to the song.  Ryan only had a few parts that he wasn’t showing Brendon, mainly because they were more personal than the shitty lyrics he had thrown together for their first practice, and Brendon was letting him know just how shitty he thought they were.

     “Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill Brendon,” Jon said hoisting his side of the keyboard higher, and Spencer laughed and continued stumbling backwards toward the basement.

     “I think Ryan will beat you to it,” Spencer said, narrowly missing the edge of the coffee table.  Jon had been enjoying the small time he had alone with Spencer.  They didn’t talk about the argument over Ryan and Brendon or the awkwardness at Starbucks; it was just laid back and easy like it had been before.  Jon was going to say something about how nice it was to be hanging out again, casually, of course, because he and Spencer still weren’t exactly friends, but a crash downstairs distracted him.

     “Shit,” Spencer said, easing Brendon’s keyboard to the ground with Jon’s help.  They ran downstairs to make sure no blood was being spilled and found their friends standing close together on the second hand couch in the corner looking terrified.

     “There’s a rat!  A huge fucking rat!  A bear rat!”  Brendon yelled when he saw Jon and Spencer in the door way.

     “It crawled over my foot!”  Ryan chimed in, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh because here were two eighteen year old guys, balancing on a lumpy couch, terrified of a tiny mouse.  Jon was apparently in agreement because his loud laugh joined in, but Brendon and Ryan were glaring at them because rats were no laughing matter.  Spencer’s face was beginning to turn red, and he was having trouble breathing.  Who would have known that the thing to bring Ryan and Brendon together would be a rodent?  It registered in Spencer’s mind that Jon was touching him - like, really touching him.  His face was buried in Spencer’s shoulder, and he could feel Jon’s body shaking against him. Spencer straightened up a little, his laughter dying off after realizing just how close they were, and he moved just enough that Jon would get the hint to move away.

     “I think it’s gone now,” Jon said still smiling broadly, unaware of Spencer’s inner struggle.  Brendon huffed, and he and Ryan went to hop off the couch at the same time, smacking into each other.  That’s when the scuffle started, and Spencer thought it was just as funny as the rat, watching the two boys smack at each other’s hands and push to get off the couch first.  It was like they didn’t really want to be fighting each other, but they kept swinging out of habit.

     “Okay, Brendon, come on.  It’s your keyboard.  Spencer and I shouldn’t be lugging it down here,” Jon said attempting to break them up.  Brendon shoved Ryan just enough that the other boy fell back on the couch, and he smirked before jumping off to follow Jon.  Ryan stayed there on his back for a moment until Spencer sat down next to him.

     “I’m sure your lyrics don’t suck,” Spencer said referring to Brendon’s earlier comments, but Ryan was shaking his head.

     “No, they do.  I didn’t show him the ones I showed you.  They’re too personal.”

     “I know you don’t like Brendon,” Ryan snorted at Spencer’s understatement, “but this is for a class.  We need a good grade, especially you.  Imagine failing music on top of your 4.0.  I don’t think NYU will take you for failing an easy class like that.”  Ryan had been talking about NYU since they had been kids.  He wanted to get out of Chicago and into the city that never sleeps.

     “I can’t give them -.”

     “You’re afraid he’s going to bash them, and I get it, but it doesn’t matter.  If you think they’re good, and they are, then it doesn’t matter what Brendon thinks of them,” Spencer pressured him.  Ryan never thought his words were good enough, and Spencer was lucky if even he got a glimpse of Ryan’s work.  Ryan didn’t reply, but it was for the best because Brendon and Jon were coming down the stairs.  Spencer watched the two in silence as they set Brendon’s keyboard up next to the wall, and Ryan left Spencer to the couch while he rifled through his bag.

     “Here,” Ryan said pressing a few papers into Brendon’s chest.  Brendon’s hand grabbed them and pulled them down to look over them.  Ryan watched, not breathing, while Brendon’s eyes scanned over the lyrics Ryan had been too afraid to share before.  When he was done with the first page, Brendon looked at Ryan, just a glance, but it was one of surprise. 

     “What are these?”

     “Lyrics.”

     “I know that, smartass.  I mean, why didn’t you show me these before?”  Ryan shrugged waiting for Brendon’s harsh analysis, but it didn’t come.  Instead he moved to his keyboard, propped the papers up on the music stand attached, and fiddled on the keys.  Ryan looked over at Spencer and wanted to smack the ‘I told you so’ look off his face.

     “I’ve got this one piece,” Brendon said, playing a melody on the keys, “I wrote it a while ago, and I could never find any words to put to it.”  No one replied to Brendon, but he didn’t mind.  He continued to play the song, humming along, and Ryan was struck with just how much he wanted Brendon to sing what he’d written.

     “If all our life is but a dream, fantastic posing greed…” Brendon sang quietly.  Okay, yes, Ryan was in love… with the song, of course.  Brendon continued singing/humming through the rest of the song, tweaking things here and there with the melody and speed.

     When he finished, it was Spencer who spoke first, “okay, that was good, really good.”  Brendon smiled at him, and if someone were to walk into the room at that moment, they would see four friends messing around on their instruments, with no rivalries creating tension within the group.  The rest of the practice went off without a hitch, (not counting when Ryan threw a drumstick at Brendon’s head or when Brendon purposely snapped one of the strings on Ryan’s guitar), but Spencer considered it a win.

\---

          Early decision was one of the scariest things on earth to high school seniors.  It meant early deadlines on applications, more competition, and little to no time for the essays that would decide the rest of their lives.  The mandatory study hall for seniors on Wednesday made everyone a little more on edge, wondering if they’d picked the right schools and freaking out about getting into their dream school. 

     Patrick was at a round table with Ryan, Spencer, Travis, Vicky, and Joe.  He and Ryan were going over the applications to NYU together, and all the questions were starting to blur into each other.  Spencer had nothing in front of him, claiming he wasn’t going to apply early like everyone else because “you always save the best for last,” but really he was just procrastinating.  Next to him, Travis and Vicky had forms to the University of Chicago, which wasn’t surprising because most of the graduating class wanted to go there.  The biggest surprise was Joe’s application.  It was to Duke University, but no one was going to ask him if he’d picked up the wrong form, afraid to offend him.

     “I cannot handle all this pressure,” Vicky groaned, and Travis looked over at her application.

     “You’re only on number six… city and state.”  Vicky flipped him off, and he went back to his essay.

     “Have you decided what to do at NYU?” Patrick asked Ryan who’d been bouncing between music and English for some time.

     “English major, music minor,” Ryan compromised, “you?”

     “Definitely music major, maybe business minor,” Patrick whispered to him.  Ryan and Patrick had bonded over their hopes to go to NYU, and the competition to see which one of them would become Valedictorian was extremely friendly.  Patrick was ahead of Ryan by the smallest amount, but there was a good chance that Ryan could pass him before graduation. 

     “Holy shit!”  Gabe could be heard laughing across the room at his table, and he was lucky the teacher had stepped out because he was on his last strike with the profanity.  Some of the stuffier students shushed him, but he just continued to laugh.  Patrick hated that entire table at the moment.

     Gabe, William, Andy, Greta, Hayley, Brendon, Jon, and Pete were all smiling away at each other like they were some sort of fucking club that Patrick wasn’t allowed in.  Gabe was wrapped around Pete in a way that if Patrick didn’t know he was with William, he’d think Gabe was coming onto Pete.  He probably is, Patrick thought bitterly.  He hadn’t been able to think of anything other than Pete and that night, but Pete seemed fine… like it hadn’t happened.

     “You dropped this,” William said from behind him; Patrick hadn’t even noticed Bill getting up from the table, and he wondered briefly if it bothered William that his boyfriend was climbing Pete.  Patrick took the familiar yellow sticky note out of William’s hands, nodding.  He hadn’t dropped it, but it was obvious Pete still didn’t want to talk to him.  He tried to shield it away from the others, but they were too caught up in applications to notice, so he smoothed it out carefully and read.

_I’ve loved everything about you that hurts so let me see your moves.  Lips pressed close to mine, true blue._

     Patrick didn’t know what the hell Pete was playing at, and before Patrick stashed the note in his pocket he glanced over to Pete’s table to find him staring back.  Patrick raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘what’s this?’  Pete answered, shrugging and mouthing, “Words.”  Patrick had figured so much.  Pete could only communicate emotionally in lyrical form it seemed.  Gabe was whispering in Pete’s ear, and Patrick saw red suddenly.  He slammed his application closed, gathered his things, and stormed out of the room.  His and Pete’s tables stared on after him wondering what the hell had just happened.

     “What was that?” Jon asked flipping the page in his UCLA booklet, and Gabe shrugged innocently, but William was glaring at him from behind his own application.  Pete was staring down at the table, not making eye contact with anyone.

     “I could go talk to him,” Brendon said, shoving his half-completed essay to Berkley School of Music into his bag, but William stopped him.

     “No, Gabe was actually just headed out there, Bren.”  Gabe shot William a disbelieving look.

     “Yeah, I guess I was,” Gabe said angrily in William’s direction, but he was too pissed off at Gabe to care because it was one thing to meddle by phone, but it was a completely other thing to meddle by climbing on top of Pete.  Gabe threw his backpack on and with one last glare in his boyfriend’s direction, he went after Patrick.

     He found him in the parking lot.

     “Hey, man, you alright?”  Gabe sighed because honestly, he hated his goals sometimes.  He took them too far sometimes, and right now, Patrick looked like he could have hit Gabe with his car, reversed, and did it again without so much as blinking an eye.

     “I’m good, Gabe, peachy, in fact.” Patrick was fiddling with his keys to start the car.  Gabe didn’t want to let Patrick go off driving while he was still so mad, so he did the only thing he could think of – which was throw himself into the passenger seat before Patrick could leave.

     Patrick slammed on the breaks, “what are you doing?”

     “I’m trying to apologize and help you and Pete stop being so fucking dumb!”  Patrick threw the gear shift into park and put his head down on the wheel.  He could not handle any of this today.

     “What are you talking about?  Just because I’m not letting Pete walk all over me anymore -.”

     “Walk all over you?  Are you fucking serious?  All Pete does is lay out a goddamn red carpet for you,” Gabe sputtered, outraged by Patrick’s stupidity.  Patrick didn’t reply, but it didn’t matter because Gabe wasn’t finished.

     “Who got suspended from school in fifth grade because he took the blame for you breaking Ray Toro’s foot in kickball?  Who’s planned a surprise birthday party for you _every year_ since you were eleven, even though it’s not really a surprise anymore?  Who beat the shit out of Tom and half the swim team because they called you fat freshman year?  Pete does so much for you, but you’re too busy thinking about yourself to realize it.”  Patrick gaped at him like a fish for a few minutes because he couldn’t think of anything to say.

     “Christ, Patrick, Pete loves you, okay?”  Patrick nodded and found his voice.

     “Of course he does.  We’re best friends.  I love him too.”  Gabe was shaking his head, and it was almost comical how Patrick was waiting for it to pop off.

     “No, Pete is _in_ love with you.  Like he wants to buy you a house in the country, marry you, and adopt beautiful foreign kids with you,” Gabe told him.  Patrick felt like his car had just risen a thousand degrees.  Pete wasn’t – couldn’t be – in love with him.  Patrick was just Patrick.

     “No, that’s – that’s stupid.  Just because two people are close doesn’t mean they want to fuck, Gabe.”  Gabe barked out a laugh.

     “You’re really an idiot aren’t you?  Everything Pete does is for or about you.  Every party he throws, every gift he gives, every song he writes… that’s all for you.  I don’t know how else to put it out there.  And I know you love him too.  You still want to punch me for the display in study hall, don’t you?”  Patrick didn’t nod, but he didn’t disagree either.

     “Go home, Patrick,” Gabe said opening the passenger door, “I’ll cover for you, but just think about it, okay?”  Patrick was still silent, but he gave Gabe a nod, letting him know that he heard him.  He waited until Gabe was inside before he left the school.  There was no way Pete was in love with him – no way.

\---

     Spencer had decided to go ahead with his plan at Ryan’s later that afternoon.  He knew exactly how to play the entire thing off, but still find out once and for all if Brendon had been the one to out Ryan. He felt like a man possessed ever since he’d talked to Jon.  Ryan’s mom was in the kitchen making dinner when Spencer came into the room with Ryan’s freshman yearbook.  He decided to wait until Ryan was busy with something else before he confronted his mother.  She glanced over her shoulder, smiling brightly at Spencer as he sat on one of the stools next to the island.

     “Hey, Spencer, what are you up to?”  Spencer flipped open to the page with Brendon’s picture and shrugged.

     “Nothing, I’m just looking over these old pictures.  I forgot how ridiculous we all looked back then,” he laughed because it was true.

     “No you didn’t.  I always knew you’d be handsome,” she said, and Spencer fought rolling his eyes because Ryan’s mom was being such a – mom.

     “Not really, I mean look at Brendon, he’s the singer for our group project in music.  He looks so different now, no bowl cut.”  Spencer spun the yearbook for Mrs. Ross to see, and he waited for some sort of reaction out of Ryan’s mother but nothing came.

     “He’s adorable in this,” she said sweetly, and Spencer could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

     “You’ve never met Brendon before?”  Ryan’s mother shook her head immediately. 

     “I would have remembered that face,” she said turning back to the stove.  Spencer couldn’t believe it. After all those years of hating Brendon… he found out it was for nothing in less than three seconds.

     “You’ll have to bring him around sometime so I can meet him.”  Spencer nodded even though she couldn’t see him, and excused himself.  He had to tell Ryan now that he was sure; this was huge.  He took the stairs two at a time, and practically ran to Ryan’s room.  Ryan was running a towel over his wet hair, but Spencer wrapped his arms around the damp boy regardless.

     “Spence, what the hell is going on?”  Ryan said into Spencer’s neck.

     “It wasn’t him!  Brendon didn’t out you to your parents because he was in Vegas and your mom’s never even seen him before.”  Ryan felt Spencer squeeze him even tighter to into his chest, but he was confused.  What did he mean Brendon hadn’t been the one?  Then who did it?  He hugged Spencer back, but felt more sadness than anything.  If Brendon really hadn’t been the one, then he had spent the last four years making Brendon’s life hell for nothing, and he’d lost Jon too. 

      Then it occurred to Ryan, “okay, but even if he didn’t, it doesn’t matter. He’s still a horrible fucking person, Spence. He’s tormented me for years,” he told Spencer, and he felt Spencer tense up and release him. 

     “But he didn’t do it.  He was only an ass because you were,” Spencer said and the look on Ryan’s face made him want to take it all back.

     “So this is all my fault?  I’m the asshole?  I’m not the one who beat the shit out of me anytime I was close enough to take a swing at!”

     “I’m not saying that!  I’m just saying that Brendon started it because you were giving it back.  Hell, the entire freshman class saw him practically jerk himself off, and he blamed you.  It started with him, Ryan.  I’m not saying it didn’t.”  Ryan wasn’t listening to him, though, and just rolled his eyes, a smirk of disbelief on his face.

     “Do you think I did that on purpose?  I was mortified for him!  I would have done anything for him after only knowing him three days.  Do you fucking honest to god think that I would have pulled that shit on him?”  Spencer was still shaking his head.

     “No!  I don’t – I just meant that we all fucked up.  It was a misunderstanding…” Spencer said uselessly, and Ryan laughed harshly in that way that made him sound like a completely different person, which was usually reserved for Brendon.

     “A misunderstanding… it was a lot more than that.”  Ryan was glaring at him, and Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful when his cell phone rang.  He sighed and pulled his phone out, happy for a moment of distraction.  It was William, which was awesome because William he could handle.

     “Hello?”

     “Spencer! Listen, Pete is taking everyone up to his parents’ cabin over Christmas break for a week… or well, I’m taking everyone to their cabin.  He’s not exactly up for partying…”  Ryan was still glaring at him.

     “Hey, Bill, can I call you back?  Now isn’t the best time to -.”

     “Nonsense!   Now is the best time or you wouldn’t have answered.  So what do you say?  We’ll leave the day after Christmas and stay until after New Year’s.”  Spencer had to hand it to William; he did know how to read people rather well, and Spencer didn’t exactly want to go back to arguing with Ryan.

     “Yeah, I could go for that,” he said, breathing easier now that he wasn’t being glared at and watching Ryan putter around his room without really doing anything.

     “Awesome, and since I’m sure Ryan is with you, ask him too!”

     “Now?”

     “Right now.”  Spencer tried not to groan into the phone, and he pulled the it down to stab the mute button angrily.

     “Ryan?”  The boy looked at him, bored and annoyed, “what?”

     “William wants to know if you want to go up to Pete’s cabin after Christmas for a week or so.”  Spencer felt stupid talking to Ryan about holiday plans while they were still fighting.

     “Um, I – I guess,” he said a little defeated, so Spencer unmuted the phone and told William that Ryan was in as well.

     “Okay, find somebody to ride with or let us know if you guys want to drive.  We’re carpooling; Pete’s only got the four car garage,” William said and Spencer snorted.

     “Only four?  The horror!”  William laughed shortly with a monotone “fuck you” at the end.  Spencer smiled slightly as he hung up.

     “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Spencer told him again, sitting next to Ryan on the bed.

     “I know, but I’m a dick so… sorry,” he laughed.

     “It’s okay, I’m a bitch, remember?” Spencer said, and Ryan smiled, signaling the end of their argument. They had never been mad at each other over anything for very long.

      Ryan became more serious then, “who did it then?  If it wasn’t Brendon -.”  He stopped; he didn’t really want to think about who may have fucked up his life back then.  It had been such a long time ago at this point, and he was mostly just upset that he’d missed out on possibly having three years of Brendon and Jon because of it.

     “I don’t know… but let’s not think about it right now,” Spencer said voicing Ryan’s thoughts, “we need to figure out who we’re riding with instead.  Or if we’re driving.”  Ryan let Spencer pull him into a conversation about who had the safest car because if practical Spencer was going up into the snowy mountains, he wasn’t doing it in a fancy sports car.

\---

     “Brendon, we’re not taking that ugly ass van.”

     “Blasphemy, Jon!  She is not an ugly ass van, and she holds eight fucking people.  It is the best thing we could take to Michigan.”  Jon rolled his eyes at his best friend.  William had called them only minutes before asking them to join the gang at Pete’s cabin in the Michigan mountains, and Brendon was convinced that his purple dinosaur was going to be an awesome carpool option.

     “I realize that in Vegas, the closest you came to snow was that white paint-in-a-can shit, but up here, your wimpy little tires and that massive top heavy van are not going to cut it on the side of a mountain.”

     “I call bullshit,” Brendon said, “I’ll put chains on the tires!  Anything, I want to take my baby to the mountains.”  Jon realized quickly that this was a fight he was going to lose.  Brendon seemed pretty damned determined to drive, but Jon didn’t give it any thought.  Brendon was weird sometimes and Jon learned to roll with the punches.  However, Brendon wasn’t exactly innocent in his weirdness this time, and he was actually about to bite the bullet for Jon to be happy.

     “And since it holds eight people, we should get a group going.  I mean, William and Gabe are going to go together, and Pete and Patrick.  And Travis, Joe, and Andy will probably do the whole guys only thing because the girls will want to have their own car.  So that leaves Spencer and Ryan...” Brendon trailed off looking at Jon, but his friend showed no change in expression.  He could have smacked Jon for being such an idiot.

     “We could ask them to ride with us,” he ground out.  Brendon was almost sick at the idea of getting in a car for five hours with Ryan Ross, but Jon deserved to be happy, and Brendon knew that Spencer would make him just that.  Jon faced him now with an indiscernible look.

     “I’m sorry, what?”  Brendon shrugged and picked at the cushion of Jon’s old couch.

     “They should ride with us.  We’re going to be spending an entire week in close quarters, and I think we need to get used to being civil with them.”  Jon was still staring at him, and Brendon was beginning to think Jon had lapsed into a catatonic state, “Jon?”

     “You want them to ride with us?  Like, in the same vehicle? For five hours?”  Brendon nodded, trying not to cringe.

     “Would that be alright with you?”  Brendon asked.

     “Yeah, I mean, if that’s what you want then – yeah, it’s okay with me.”  Brendon plastered a smile on his face.

     “Good.  You should talk to them… I think it might come as too much of a shock if I asked.”  Jon nodded almost enthusiastically as he went to his bedroom to grab his phone, and Brendon felt sick.  Ryan better not be a jackass or Brendon was going to have to throw his skinny ass out of his top heavy van.

\---

     “Just call him and ask.  The worst that could happen is he says no,” William said waltzing into Pete’s room.  He had just come from delivering yet another note to Patrick’s house because Pete had been adamant on getting the rest of his lyrics to Patrick before the end of the day.  He knew whatever Patrick changed would only make it better, and he wished he could watch Patrick in his genius mode.

     “That’s not the worst thing,” Pete told him even as he called Patrick. Just as he had expected, Patrick didn’t answer and his voicemail played.  Pete had forgotten about Patrick’s voicemail; it’d been a long time since he’d not been able to get a hold of Patrick.

    “This is Patrick –,” Patrick started calmly until Pete’s voice rang out in the back, “Patrick motherfucking Stump!”  Patrick’s laughter, “I can’t come to the phone right now,” Pete cuts him off, “’cause he’s getting laid!”  Patrick rounded off the message, “leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.”  Pete again with, “or not!”  Pete wanted to fucking cry, but the beep sounded, and he just rambled, spouting out whatever came to mind.

     “Patrick, uh, I – how are you?  I wanted to let you know, well, I - everybody is making plans to, um, come up to the cabin over Christmas break.  I was just wondering if you wanted to come, you know, or not, if you don’t want to… I mean, you should come, please – Everybody wants you there.  Or well, I guess I want you to come up, too.  No, I mean, I do want you to come with us.  If you want to… Just call me or, you know, text, whatever.  Uhm, bye Trick – Patrick, sorr-.”  Another beep sounded telling Pete that he had been cut off.  William was staring at him.

     “That was… pathetic.  That was really fucking sad.”  Pete groaned and threw his phone to the end of the bed.  He felt like an idiot and now his ridiculous babbling was sitting in Patrick’s voicemail waiting to show Patrick just how awful Pete was doing on his own.

     “I wouldn’t say yes to me,” Pete said.

     “Nobody would say yes to that voicemail,” Bill said, “except Patrick.”  Pete flopped back on his bed and threw the sheets over his head, hoping William was right.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**October 2012**

     Ashlee was buzzing with excitement.  It was finally time to hear what her students had put together for their projects, and the first two groups, My Chemical Romance with “Na Na Na” and Paramore with “Ignorance” had been incredible.  She couldn’t have picked better teams in her opinion, and everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was all she’d hoped for.  Cobra Starship was up, and Ashlee would’ve been lying if she said she wasn’t worried about what might come out of this one, mainly what curses Gabe used.  Things were going well, though, as they made it into the final verse of “Nice Guys Finish Last”.  Ashlee couldn’t help but notice the shining look of pride on William’s face as he waited with his own group to go on, and she knew this involvement with her students’ private affairs was becoming a problem…

     “Thank you Chicago!” Gabe yelled knocking his microphone stand to the floor, and Ashlee repressed her amusement as she passed them on the way to the front of the room and picked the stand back up.

     “Thank you Cobra Starship,” she said, “before I bring the next group up, I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be doing one on ones starting tomorrow.  They’re required by the school since our counselor left last week, and all seniors need to finish an outgoing survey.  It’ll basically be a session about you, what you want to accomplish, where you want to go to college and so on.  Anyway, without further ado,” she waved her hand at William, and he jumped up and took the makeshift stage.

     “I’d like to say that although my dear Gabe did spectacularly today, my band beats his band and everyone else’s so… yeah, suck it,” he said playfully, sticking his tongue out.  Ashlee didn’t look at Gabe because if she couldn’t see him flip anyone off, she couldn’t write him up.

     The Academy Is… was followed by the All-American Rejects and Gym Class Heroes before it was Fall Out Boy’s turn.  Everyone, including Ashlee, ignored the awkwardness between the four boys, which was clearly the fault of Pete and Patrick.

     “I’ve loved everything about you that hurts.” Patrick began and Pete just closed his eyes.  At least when he didn’t go near Patrick during the song, he’d have the excuse that they were at school.  Patrick kept his hat pulled down to the point that his eyes disappeared… it was much easier to sing a song when he couldn’t see any prying eyes.  The entire three minutes and twelve seconds was so uncomfortably anxious that Joe nearly shoved Pete into Patrick just to break the tension.

     “I’m supposed to love you,” Patrick’s voice rang out on the last note of the song.  There was a lump in his throat, and he was pretty sure he’d sounded like shit, but he heard the class clapping anyway as he moved past the rest of the boys to get to his seat.  All he could think about was Pete and the words to the song and the ridiculously sad voicemail Pete had left him.  He shoved his guitar into his bag roughly and leaned back in his seat tugging his hat impossibly lower.

     “Told you so,” Gabe sat forward in his seat to whisper in Patrick’s ear, and he groaned quietly.  He still refused to believe Gabe, even considering the song, which he thought just couldn’t be about him and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

     “Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, Jon… come on up,” Ashlee said and Patrick was thankful for a distraction.  It was an easy set up requiring only a quick lift of the in-class keyboard.  The four maneuvered around each other easily getting things ready as Brendon took his seat on the bench behind the keys.

     “Uhm, we’re Panic! At the Disco,” he said awkwardly, “and this is Northern Downpour.”  As they started playing and Brendon began singing, it occurred to Pete (buried in a hoodie next to Hayley, who allowed him to lean on her shoulder) that they could have been a real band and a good one at that.  It was nice and soothing as Ryan Ross’ songs could be from time to time, though not often.  Pete had read some of the more upsetting lyrics, which had reminded him a lot of his own, and that meant that, like him, Ryan had a lot of feelings he wasn’t dealing with.  He glanced at Patrick’s profile, but he was watching Panic! Unwaveringly, and Pete had to stop the grin from spreading across his face.  Patrick had an absurdly good ear for music, which he liked to think was something else they shared.  As the boys finished up and took their seats again, the class was ending. 

     “Halloween party at mine Saturday at nine!  Costumes or no entrance!”  William announced loudly as everyone started filing out.  Ryan rolled his eyes at William’s demand, but he couldn’t stop smiling, and he noticed the same for Spencer, Jon, and Brendon.  They had done so well, and Ryan couldn’t help but be proud of every person in his little fake band.  They had finally pulled together at the end, setting aside differences, and just getting things done.  Ryan had secretly been glad that Brendon was putting everything between them to the side so that Spencer and Jon could really spend time together.  Spencer deserved it, Ryan thought as he watched his friend chat casually with Jon.

     Ryan wanted to say something – anything – to Brendon, as a thank you, but he was already out the door when Ryan finally worked up the nerve.  He swore lightly under his breathe, thinking how stupid he was to assume that he and Brendon were anything resembling friends just because they hadn’t been in a fight in a month, but that was a record for them.  He felt a familiar hand drop on his shoulder and turned to see a bright red Spencer and a nervous Jon.

     “What’s up?”

     “Uhm, well, I was just talking to Spencer about going to Pete’s cabin after Christmas, and uh, Brendon is going to be driving his huge dinosaur of a van, you know, the purple one…  Anyway, we were wondering if you guys might want to, um, ride with us?” Jon stumbled out.  Ryan frowned.

     “I don’t think that would be a good idea… I mean, I doubt that he would -.”

     “It was Brendon’s idea!”  Jon said quickly, and now it was Spencer’s turn to frown.

     “Brendon?  Brendon Urie? Wants to ride in a car with _us_ for five hours?”  Jon chuckled at Spencer’s disbelief.

     “That’s what I said at first, but he was pretty adamant about it. He said it made the most sense.”  It made no sense to Ryan, and he knew it didn’t make any to Spencer either, but he could tell that Spencer wanted to go, so…

     “Okay,” Ryan said and then just turned to his guitar like nothing had happened.

     “Really?” Jon asked, but it was directed more at Spencer than Ryan, so he said nothing.

     “Uh, yeah,” Spencer said giving Ryan an odd look, “yeah.”

     “Cool, okay.  I’m going to head to class then,” Jon said smiling at them and walking off.  Spencer was still staring at Ryan.

     “What?” Ryan sighed, and Spencer crossed his arms, suspicion all over his face.

     “What are you planning to do to Brendon?  You can’t run him off the road and kill him or anything.  He will be driving, which means we would die, too.”  Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically and pulled his backpack on, heading toward the door with Spencer in tow.

     “I’m not going to do anything.  We want to go, I don’t want to drive, and a van is a relatively safe car, I guess, just like you wanted,” Ryan reasoned and it surprised him how logical his bullshit was.  Spencer narrowed his eyes at Ryan for a minute but gave up the minute they were in the hallway.

     “Okay, fine, don’t tell me. Come on, it’s my free period and I’m behind on a paper.”  Ryan followed Spencer down the hall toward the courtyard, trying not to hyperventilate at the idea of being in close quarters with Brendon.

\---

     Patrick listened to Pete’s voicemail for what had to be the thirty-seventh time.  The entire thing sounded like an apology and more than anything Patrick wanted to forgive him, but things felt different between them now.  Patrick was still thinking about Pete in a – more than friendly way (meaning Pete was still showing up in his head at inopportune times…) but he wasn’t about to get into that.  He didn’t delete the message; he’d already given into the fact that he’d listen to it again, but he shoved the phone into his pocket without replaying it as usual, which he took it as a good sign.

     “Patrick!”  He glanced over as he continued walking to his car and found William chasing after him.  He slowed, but didn’t stop walking and allowed William to catch up with him.

     “Hey Bill,” he said a little on edge, wanting to get home and into his bed as soon as possible.

     “So, you heard about my Halloween party, right?”  William didn’t wait for Patrick to answer, “Right, so it’s also going to include a little Jon Walker love as it is his birthday on Monday.  So, not only do you have to wear a costume, but you also have to chip in for Jonathan’s gift.” 

Patrick wanted to groan, but he liked Jon, so, he supposed a party and a gift wouldn’t be too bad.

     “I have to dress up?” He asked, and William nodded excitedly.

     “Gabe wants me to be a snake charmer, but the pants are fucking ugly so that’s not going to happen.  I’m thinking… oh, how about Beetlejuice?  Those pants are cool, so much better than stupid a snake charmer… What about you?”  Patrick shook his head.  He wasn’t particularly into Halloween even though his best friend – fuck, he was thinking about Pete again – loved it.  William poked Patrick in the side lovingly.

     “You should be the giant marshmallow man from Ghostbusters! You love that movie, and he wears a hat just like you do!” William laughed.  Patrick knew it wasn’t a jab at his weight, he did, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but be completely pissed off, and he shoved William away from him.

     “Fuck you,” he hissed.  William looked at him wide and sputtered an apology, confused at Patrick’s reaction, but Patrick couldn’t give a damn as he spun on his heel.  He wanted to go home and sleep and – he stopped abruptly because, Christ, couldn’t he catch a break?  Pete was leaning against the driver’s door of his car, and he thought momentarily about going back to William because anything was better than confronting Pete.  He steeled his nerves and walked determinedly to his car, and he wasn’t giving Pete the satisfaction of eye contact.

     “Pete,” he said, voice cold and even. 

     “Hey, um, did you – did you get my message?”  Patrick thought about the voicemail he’d listened to thirty-seven, or, well, thirty-eight times.  He probably could recite it for him at this point.

     “Yeah, I just haven’t really gotten around to listening to it,” he lied, “been really busy.” Pete nodded and his hands fidgeted in his pockets.

     “Of course,” he said smiling in the most self-deprecating way and it had Patrick sick to his stomach.

     “What’s it about?” Patrick asked throwing Pete a lifeline despite himself.  Pete pulled his eyes from the concrete and licked his dry lips.  Patrick would be a liar if he said he didn’t watch the movement closely.

     “Well, William is – I am, too – taking everyone to my parents’ cabin in Michigan after Christmas… We – I wanted to know if you wanted to come with.”  Well, Patrick thought, it was much more eloquent than the voicemail he’d been left at least.  He stared at the keys in his hand and knew he could easily push Pete away from his car and leave, but that would involve touching Pete, and Patrick remembered the way Pete’s hips had stuttered on his…

     “That’s a long way off -.”

     “Like, two months,” Pete laughed uncomfortably, and Patrick sighed and placed a hand on the bill of his hat as a way to comfort himself.  He could hide under there.

     “Patrick – Trick,” Pete forced himself to use his friend’s nickname, “I, uh, I really wish you would come with us.  I’ve never been up there without you and it won’t be the same if you’re not there.”  Patrick didn’t say anything, but he was cracking.  He wanted to tell Pete to fuck off, and ask him how he fucking slept after what had happened.  Then again, he also wanted to say okay, and go to the cabin and have his best friend back… He thought about whose feelings were more important to him in the long run:  his or Pete’s?  Did he want this awkward dance with each other to last forever or did he want to just get over himself already?  The answer was so obvious that he couldn’t believe it’d taken him so long to come to the conclusion.

     “Yeah, okay.  That sounds fun,” Patrick said and the most wonderful smile lit up Pete’s face, and Patrick knew immediately he’d made the right decision.

     “Shit, good, that’s good,” Pete said wildly, excited that he’d said yes, “so we’re – we’re good then?”  Patrick’s head was saying no, but his mouth was a fucking traitor.

     “Yeah, we’re good, Pete,” and he shouldn’t have said it because Pete apparently thought that everything was back to normal, and he latched onto Patrick, hugging him tightly and burying his face into Patrick’s neck.

     Patrick squeezed his keys in his palm, almost drawing blood.

     “Jesus, Trick.  I missed the shit out of you even though I saw you every day,” Pete laughed into his neck as if Patrick had been hundreds of miles away for years.

     “Yeah, man, me too,” he stammered out quickly, “but I have to get going.  Lots of shit to do, you know?”  Pete’s smile didn’t falter as he pulled away.

     “Yeah, sure.  Come over tonight!  My parents are leaving in the morning again, and they’re making a kickass dinner tonight.  Mom says she misses you.  You know I think she likes you more than me, right?”  Patrick laughed nervously.

     “You always did say that, but uh, I’ll have to run it by my dad.  He wanted to bond or whatever,” Patrick lied and still, Pete was grinning at Patrick like he was the Second Coming.

     “Cool, whatever you want.”  Patrick nodded and moved around Pete as much as he could to get to his door, even though Pete wasn’t really moving out of his way.

     “Fight, fight!”  Patrick looked up at the shouting, wondering what stupid adolescents were going at it this time, and he was deeply surprised to see it was Brendon and Ryan because he’d thought that they were doing so well.

     “Goddamn it,” Pete said as he grabbed Patrick’s hand , ignoring the fact that he was trying to leave, and tugged him over to the scene.

     “You did that on fucking purpose!” Brendon swung at Ryan’s jaw and Patrick cringed when his fist connected.  Ryan was spitting blood and seeing red.

     “No, you weren’t looking where you were going, asshole,” Ryan ran at Brendon and a couple of the kids in the group whooped.  Pete was pushing through the small crowd and Patrick looked up to see Jon and Spencer running down the school’s steps.  Pete had reached Brendon and was holding him back, but Ryan was still coming at him.

     “Fucking move,” Patrick hissed and pushed a rather rambunctious boy out of the way as he snagged Ryan’s arm before he could land his fist in Brendon’s stomach.

     “Are you fucking kidding me?”  Jon yelled and everyone went quiet because, what?  Jon did not yell; he especially did not yell in Brendon’s direction.  Spencer put a hand on Patrick’s forearm, a silent thank you, and took Ryan into his own care.

     “I told you he didn’t do it. What the hell are you doing?” Spencer hissed in Ryan’s ear, but he glared at Brendon viciously, ignoring Spencer because he didn’t give a fuck.  Jon was speaking in low tones, but instead of Brendon looking like a wounded puppy, he ripped his arm out of Jon’s grip.

     “Fuck you then, Jon!  Go with them,” Brendon said backing away from him and then pushing through the crowd.  Jon looked over at where Spencer was still clutching Ryan’s shoulder and for a brief, shining moment, Spencer thought he’d gotten Jon back.  Then it was gone, and Jon was walking away with Pete after Brendon.

     “Come on,” Spencer jerked Ryan out of his blank stare in Jon and Brendon’s direction.

     “Jon stood up for us,” Ryan said quietly, and Spencer didn’t respond, angry at Ryan, but he didn’t know why exactly.  Spencer released Ryan’s arm and then maneuvered to the driver’s side, but Ryan didn’t get into the car.

     “Ryan -.”

     “Did you hear me?  Jon stood up for us, for you,” and Spencer didn’t say anything now because his throat wasn’t working, “You should go.  I’m going to see if I can catch a ride with Patrick.”

     “Ryan,” he forced through his closing windpipe as Ryan backed away from the car.

     “I know, Spencer.  I know… how you feel about Jon, I mean.”  And then he was gone.  Spencer didn’t know when he started breathing again or when he became the last person in the parking lot, but it was an hour before he finally got home.

     Ryan called, but he didn’t answer.

     Jon texted him, and he turned his phone off.

\---

     After dropping Jon off at his apartment only to find a red eyed Brendon on his door step, Pete left them to talk things out and headed home to spend time with his parents.  It wasn’t often that Pete got to spend any real quality time with his parents, which they tried to make up for in material things.  Pete knew his parents loved him and if he asked, they would drop whatever they were doing wherever they were, and come home.  But sometimes the freedom, the things, the money… it made Pete think his mom and dad were just paying him off.

     He shrugged his jacket off when he got through the door and hung it up on the coat rack.  Hemingway was already running towards the foyer, and he could smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen.  None of those things really caught his attention though as he stood in the foyer. He stared at the spot on the floor where he’d held Patrick down, rutting against him, and the wall where Patrick had shoved him roughly… he squeezed his eyes shut.  No, he thought, Patrick was over it, and they were friends again and what had happened – it was just a fluke, too much built up tension with no outlet.

     “Pete?”  His mother’s voice came out of the kitchen, and he was suddenly five years old again because, shit, he wanted his mother to hug him, comfort him, and tell him that he was going to be okay.  He plastered a smile on his face and moved into the kitchen.

     “Hey, mom,” he said rounding the corner.  His mother, same dark hair and hazel eyes as Pete, was cutting vegetables on the island while his dad, in his mother’s frilliest apron was throwing chicken around on a skillet.

    “Dad…”  Pete’s father turned to face him, smiling.

    “Don’t even think about it.  I didn’t choose this apron, your mother did – and I didn’t want to argue with that one.”  Pete laughed at how much he and his father were alike despite the twenty-eight year age difference.

     Pete’s mother snorted, setting down the knife, and wiping her hands, “don’t let him fool you, sweetheart.  He wanted to wear that damn thing so bad that I’ll probably have to cut it off him when he’s asleep,” she laughed.  Pete’s dad moved away from the stove and whirled his mother in close.

     “It looks better on me,” he said before leaning her over dramatically and pressing a sweet kiss to her mouth.  She was laughing, breathless and Pete was struck with how much he wanted that.  He wanted to cook with someone, laugh with someone, kiss that same someone… But he rolled his eyes anyway and spat out a, “gross, not around the food.”  Pete’s father chucked a piece of chopped green pepper at him, and Pete laughed at his dad.  The man was forty-six going on sixteen.

     “So, when is Patrick coming over?” his mother asked, and Pete shrugged as he ate the piece of pepper his father had thrown at him.

     “I don’t know, he said that he and his dad might have a bonding thing -.”

     The doorbell rang, and Pete was standing in front of the door before he’d realized he’d moved.  He pulled the door open and seeing Patrick on his porch made his stomach flop.

     “Hey, uh, offer still good?” Patrick asked, hands in his pockets, and Pete couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across his face.

     “Get in here.  My mom’s going to pop a vein if she doesn’t see you soon,” he said reaching out to Patrick.

     “Patrick?” And Pete kind of liked the way his mom sounded so excited.  Patrick passed his coat to Pete, who hung it up, and proceeded to the kitchen.

     “Hey Susan,” Patrick said warmly.  Pete watched his mother drop the vegetables and rush around the island to envelop Patrick in a hug.

     “It’s been so long, honey.  Where’ve you been?”  Patrick shrugged in her arms, but smiled anyway.

     “I’ve been busy lately,” he lied again, and if he hated lying to Pete than he absolutely loathed lying to Pete’s parents.  Susan released Patrick and turned to her husband.

     “Peter, come say hello.  Christ, you have no manners,” she playfully badgered him.

     “I was waiting for you to finish suffocating him,” Peter said running a hand over her arm.  Patrick laughed and for the first time in a while, it was a real one.  He felt so at ease, even with Pete standing somewhere behind him.  The Wentz’s house had always felt like home, just as much as his real one.  Peter was pulling him in for a hug as well because it was not in the Wentz men’s nature to just shake hands.

     “Come sit down, son, what are you up to?  Still applying to NYU, I hope.”  Patrick nodded and sat at one of the barstools in front of Susan.

     “I am, but I’m applying to UC and the community college just in case,” he said, and Pete snorted on the chair next to him.

     “The community college wouldn’t take you, Trick.  You’re too smart and talented for that hell hole.”  Patrick hoped the heat in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable to anyone as it was to him.

     “Pete,” Susan warned about the cussing, “but he’s right.  You’re too damn smart, Patrick.”  Pete grinned at his mother and stole a piece of zucchini off the cutting board, narrowly missing her swat.  He threw it down for Hemingway, who had taken to hovering by Patrick’s seat.  A cell phone rang and Patrick watched in amusement as Susan and Peter dove into their pockets (and what the hell was Mr. Wentz wearing?).  It turned out to be Peter’s phone and he held up a finger signaling that he was leaving the room.  Susan set hers on the counter and looked up at the boys in front of her, and it made her heart clench.  They were practically men now, but she could see them, vividly, at eight years old on the very same stools playing with Legos, and she had a picture somewhere…

     Susan’s cell phone went off this time, and she rolled her eyes.

     “I figured,” she said, “boys, take over for us will you?”  Then she was out of the kitchen talking to someone named Charles about accounts… it sounded boring.

     “I’ll take the stove if you’ll finish cutting,” Pete said gesturing to the vegetables.  Patrick gave a short nod and moved around the counter.  They moved around in silence and seemed to know what to do having watched Pete’s parents cook for years.

     “Hey, Trick, try this,” Pete was standing next to him holding out a piece of chicken.  So Patrick was apparently not fucking thinking because instead of grabbing it out of Pete’s hand, he leaned in and took it with his mouth.  Pete could feel Patrick’s lips push down over his fingers and held back his shudder because, holy shit, yeah he was still having non friendly thoughts about Patrick.  Patrick knew the second his mouth touched Pete’s hand that he’d done wrong, but he ignored it, pushed it down and locked it up.

      “It’s done,” Patrick said and he couldn’t believe how calm it sounded, but Pete was still gaping at him.  He wanted to break this – this awkward standoff so he threw a piece of onion at Pete’s forehead.

     “Are you going to cook or what?”  Patrick didn’t like to think of what the ‘or what’ could have been, but it seemed to shake Pete out of his stupor, and he picked up the onion Patrick had thrown at him.  He smiled and threw it back twice as hard, and Patrick was laughing.  He was laughing so hard for the first time in – fuck, he couldn’t remember.  It just felt so good to be laughing with Pete, cooking with him, and throwing onions at his forehead… He was wrong before; it wasn’t the house that Patrick thought of as home.  It was Pete, and that single thought terrified him.

     “Never go into big businesses boys,” Peter said as he entered the kitchen again, “I’ll finish up in here.  Susan wants to see you two in the living room for a minute.”  Patrick’s laughter was dying off quickly, and Pete was still smiling that goddamn grin as they entered the living room.

     “Pete, Patrick, look what I found!”  Pete saw the container his mother was holding up and recognized it immediately.  It was the PeteandPatrick box, containing just about everything that made up their friendship.  “Look at this picture of you two.”

     Pete moved first, sitting next to his mother, and Patrick followed, taking her other side.  It was a Polaroid from when they were thirteen.  Pete had broken his arm while skateboarding and had asked for the most obnoxiously bright yellow cast they had to wrap his arm.  They were sitting on Pete’s bed, Patrick holding Pete’s broken arm with one hand while the other held a Sharpie.  Pete was grinning so largely that his eyes disappeared, and for the first time (and Pete had seen the picture a million times), he noticed that Patrick wasn’t looking at the camera or the cast.  He was staring at Pete, smiling at him.

     “I can’t believe how grown up you two are,” Susan said, “how handsome my boys have become.”  Pete smiled slightly at his mother because he agreed; Patrick was handsome… but he wasn’t thinking about it.  Patrick’s hand was digging in the box and he pulled out a piece of the yellow cast.  Pete had been obsessed with keeping Patrick’s signature to the point that he’d whined until the doctor cut the piece off and gave it to him.

     “The first Patrick Stump autograph,” Pete said proudly.  The signature was messy and the color of the marker had bled into the dips of the cast, but it was his name and that was all that mattered.  Patrick held the piece of hardened plastic gingerly in his hands.

     “You were convinced I was going to be famous,” Patrick smiled.

     “I’m still convinced,” Pete said casually as if it were public knowledge.

     “I think this is the most recent I have of you two,” Susan said, smirking.  She wasn’t an idiot, and she knew that Pete and Patrick weren’t on the best of terms because Pete couldn’t hide anything from her during their phone calls when she was away on business.  She also knew that her son was crazy about Patrick regardless of what he said.  Pete grabbed the picture out of her hand, cackling.

     “You were so pissed,” Pete wheezed through laughter.  It was a picture of Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe in Pete’s pool last summer.  Joe and Andy were trying to drown each other in the deep end while Patrick (in a shirt, Pete noted with distain), was lying back on an inflatable raft.  Pete was in midair, hovering above where Patrick lay.  Pete knew that only moments after the picture was taken, he had cannonballed right onto Patrick’s raft, flipping them.  Patrick had sputtered angrily all the way out of the pool.

     “I was,” he nodded taking the picture from Pete, “I don’t have this one.”  Susan wanted to poke fun at the boys and inform them of their stupidity, but she settled on, “I’ll make you a copy.”  He placed the picture back in the box.  It was brimming full of things at this point:  pictures of them spanning thirteen years, movie and concert tickets, notes, mixed CDs, and other sentimental things.  Susan was as sappy as they came and had a habit of keeping everything.  There was even a picture Pete had drawn in kindergarten of his family with a stick figure Patrick added.

     “Dinner!” Mr. Wentz’s voice carried in from the kitchen.  Patrick jumped up, ready to get away from that damned box.  He didn’t even know why he had shown up; he’d gone home, worked on his NYU essay, and then found himself at Pete’s.  He figured it was because Gabe’s little information session was still buzzing in his head.  Pete couldn’t be in love with him, and he wasn’t going to buy into a fantasy.  As he was headed to the kitchen, Pete splayed a hand on his back and all Patrick wanted to know was what the fuck he thought he was doing.  Susan passed by them to help Peter in the kitchen, and when they made it into the dining room, Susan was carrying multiple plates while Peter balanced four dishes on his arms.

     “Sit,” Peter directed them.  Patrick slid into his usual chair across from Pete’s, and they were all silent as they dished out the food and began eating.  Patrick nearly choked when Pete’s foot brushed his under the table.

     “Dude, chew first,” Pete laughed and tossed a roll at him.  Patrick glared at him and threw it back.

     “Boys,” Susan started but Pete interrupted her by flicking a piece of chicken at Patrick.

     “Hey, food goes in your mouth!” Peter said, but there was no heat behind it.  If he were honest, he was enjoying the exchange.  Until Patrick pulled his spoon back, sending rice into Pete’s hair.  Pete sat open mouthed, and then it broke into a devilish grin, and he grabbed a handful of vegetables off his plate and launched them.  That was about the time they broke out into a full-fledged food fight.  Susan sighed and moved out of the way while her husband watched with mild interest.  There was no way they were going to stay at the table much longer.  Peter gestured for her to follow him when one of the rolls came too close to her head, and Susan gave up on trying having a calm dinner rather quickly.

     “I swear, Pete,” Patrick threatened him when he made his way around the table, a handful of rice in his hand.  Quick as lightning, Patrick’s hat was on the floor and his hair was covered in rice.  He jumped up with his glass of ice water, wrestled Pete’s head down and poured it down the back of his shirt.  They were laughing hysterically, trying to cover each other with as much food and drink as possible. Pete smacked a glob of butter onto Patrick’s nose, and he stepped back, cackling at the look on Patrick’s face.

     “Fuck, I love you,” Pete said, still laughing, and Patrick froze, wait, what?  Pete was ready to attack again as though he hadn’t realized what he’d said. 

     “I have to go,” he said suddenly, wiping his food covered hands on his food covered jeans.  Pete looked at him, a confused smile gracing his face.  He looked a bit ridiculous, rice in his hair and stuck to his face, chicken and vegetables stuck on his shirt, but Patrick couldn’t think of anything except getting out.

     “What, why?” He asked moving in, and Patrick shook his head, racking his brain for an excuse.

     “I – I promised Ryan I’d help him on the NYU application. I totally forgot,” he said grabbing his hat off the floor, “I really need to go.”  Pete opened his mouth, most likely to ask Patrick to stay, but Patrick just raced out the door managing a goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Wentz.  Pete stood still in the dining room as his parents came in, laughing.

     “What happened?” Susan asked seeing her son’s expression, and Pete shrugged, shook his head and moved towards the stairs outside the door.

     “He had to be somewhere, I guess. I don’t really know… I need a shower,” he said looking around the dining room as he left, “I’ll clean this up.”  Susan watched her son go, a little heartbroken at the sight.

     “Do you think he realized he said it?” Peter said.  Susan said nothing, just shook her head and began cleaning up after everyone.  She could only hope that they worked everything out and didn’t fight their feelings for much longer.

\----

     “What the fuck were you thinking?”

     “I wasn’t.  Ross tripped me and I snapped. I’m sorry.”  Jon rubbed a hand over his mouth in annoyance.  Brendon was curled up on his couch while Jon stood nearby looking every bit the disappointed parent.

     “You guys have been civil, friendly even!  You text, you talk about music, and things – things were fucking fine!”  Brendon looked down.

     “I’m not just going to forget what he did.”  Jon sighed and took a seat on the couch.  If they were going to talk about it, they may as well get it all into the open. Jon knew the answer to his question before he asked it.

     “Brendon… have you ever been to Ryan’s house, met his parents?”  Brendon shook his head sadly, eyes still on the floor.

     “Ryan was kicked out of his house a couple days after William’s party freshmen year.”

     “Why?” He was looking at Jon, confused, because what did that have to do with anything?

     “Someone went to his house and told his parents he was gay, that they’d fooled around, and his parents kicked him out.”  Brendon went from confused to furious in seconds.

     “You think I did that!  How could I?  My parents fucking -.”

     “That’s not what I’m saying.  I’m saying that Ryan thinks it was you, and that’s why he’s been a dick to you… not that you haven’t been one, too.”

     “Fuck you, Jon.  I didn’t do anything to him. He’s the one who told everyone I was in that room…”  Jon knew that, but ever since Spencer had told him it wasn’t true, he’d had his doubts.  Ryan really had liked Brendon and Jon couldn’t see why Ryan would have embarrassed Brendon like that.  Plus, Ryan had never expressed an interest in being popular, which gave Brendon’s theory that he’d done it for the reputation no credibility.

     “I know, but… what if he didn’t?  Would that make you feel any different?”

     “It doesn’t matter because he did do it, Jon.  I told you if you wanted to be friends with them, then fine, but don’t expect me to be civil to that asshole anymore.”  Jon hung his head, upset to the point of frustration.

     “I’ll text Spencer and tell them they can’t ride with us -.”

      “What?  No, that’s not – they’re still riding with us.”

     “Bden, you’re making no sense…” he sighed.

     “Jesus, Jon, I know you like Spencer, okay?  And he’s fucking obsessed with you.  You guys aren’t exactly discreet.”

     “No – no I don’t and he, dude, no, he’s not into me, um,” Jon sputtered.

     “Shut up,” Brendon said, confidence growing, “I know you like each other and I’m trying to help you out, okay?  Let me.”  Jon settled back into the couch defeated.

     “What gave me away?”  Brendon snorted.

     “Everything gives you away, Walker, but earlier, when you told me to lay off Ryan, you said Spencer didn’t deserve to be put through that because he was a good person.  That was the big tip off.”

     “I meant to say Ryan was…” 

     “I figured, but, you know when you like someone – shit slips out.”  Brendon dug the remote out of cushions and turned on the TV.  Jon tried to process; he wondered if everyone else had picked up on his little –or not so little – fixation.  If Brendon had noticed, then had the rest of his friends or Ryan or, god-forbid, Spencer?  Brendon was watching an old Friends Halloween rerun.

    “You should wear a big bunny suit like Chandler’s at William’s party,” he said offhandedly.  Jon looked up at the man on screen in a large pink bunny suit.

      “No fucking way, B.”  Brendon was laughing and Jon thought maybe it wasn’t so bad that his best friend knew his secret.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**October 2012**

William

     “Where do you see yourself in five years?  Ten years?” Ashlee read the question off the paper to the lanky boy in front of her.  He was slouched down in his chair and looked every bit as bored as she did.

     “Five years?  I’ll be working in my father’s business and ten years from now, I’ll be running it.”

     “Running a company at twenty eight?  Those are some high aspirations.”  William shrugged.

     “Yeah, well, my family and Gabe have given me a pretty big ego,” he laughed.

      “Have you decided where you’re going to college?”

     “I’m sticking to the University of Chicago… but Gabe wants to go to NYU.  He doesn’t think I know, but – I’m not sure how well we’ll do if he goes.”  Ashlee couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

     “If you love each other, it won’t matter.  You know, I met my boyfriend in high school.  We went to different colleges, across the country from each other, and four years later, we were still together.”

     “It’s not me I’m worried about.  It’s him.  Gabe is very… flirtatious and while I trust him, I’m not sure it’s enough,” he said leaning forward in his chair.

     “Have you talked to him about this?”

     “No way,” he said, “Gabe will tell me everything will be fine even if it won’t be.”  Ashlee was interfering, yes, she’d admit it, but she wanted to help.  There wasn’t anything wrong with that was there?  No.

     “You should still try.  He might surprise you.”

     “You’re a good teacher, Ms. Simpson.”

     “Ashlee, and thank you,” she corrected him.

     “Can I go?  I’d like to see if I can catch him before next period,” William had his hands on his backpack even before she dismissed him.

     “Go on, but if anyone asks, we finished this stupid thing,” she said waving the paper around.

     “Thanks,” he grinned and was out the door.

 

Joe

     “Duke University?”

     “Yes.”

     “Why?”

     “It’s a good school, I think.”

     “You think?” Ashlee asked the boy lounging in his chair.

      “I’ve heard it was… why, what did you hear?” He said suspiciously.

     “It’s a very good school, Joe.”

     “Awesome, so are we done?”

Andy

     “I’m not going to college.  I’m going to Africa for a year after I graduate to do some volunteering.”

     “That’s very admirable, Andy, but aren’t you going to miss all your friends when they’re away at school?”

     “My best friend Joe is coming with me,” he said shrugging, “we’ll have a good time.”

     “Joe in my class?  He’s applied to Duke.”

     “What?” Andy shouted, eyes wide, “I have to go!”

\---

     “One-on-ones are today.”  Spencer spun around in the lunch line to see Jon standing behind him.

     “Hey, uh, yeah.  Mine’s at one,” he attempted a non-creepy smile.  Jon nodded leaning over Spencer to grab a tray, making him hold his breath nervously.

     “Cool, I’m supposed to be at mine in like, ten minutes,” he laughed glancing at the large clock on the wall.  Spencer pulled a water bottle out of the built in cooler on the counter.  He suddenly was not hungry.

     “So, um,” Spencer struggled to start a conversation, “do you know where you want to go?  For college, I mean.”

     “Yeah, I’m applying to UCLA,” Jon told him, digging his wallet out of his pocket to pay the lunch woman.

     “California?”  Spencer said too quickly and too loudly to be casual. 

     “Yeah, California.  I’m going to be a photography major,” he said grinning at the idea, “you know, something that will make me absolutely no money and force me to live in a box on the beach.” 

     Spencer laughed, “why California?”

     “It’s warm.  Plus, my crazy aunt lives out there, and I’d like to see more of her, so…” Jon trailed off as if he was revealing too much.  Spencer noticed Brendon watching them carefully from a table outside and realized he’d followed Jon from the lunch line to the back of the cafeteria by the windows.

      “Well, um, I need to meet up with Ryan, I’ll see you, I guess,” he said, patting himself on the back for not sounding like a complete idiot.  Jon gave him a one handed wave before joining on of the fuller tables in the senior courtyard.  Spencer felt like Jon and Brendon were constantly surrounded by people, having a good time, and it made Spencer wish that he and Ryan were at the table with them.

     “Hey, Ry,” Spencer said as he found the boy’s table.  They hadn’t spoken since the last Brendon/Ryan fight.  Ryan stopped moving his food around on his plate and looked up at him.

     “Hey,” he said quietly.  Spencer slid into the seat next to him and set his water down.

     “I’m sor -.” They began together.

     “Go ahead,” Ryan told him.

     “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t try and push Brendon on you.  I know it doesn’t matter that he didn’t out you because he’s still a dick.” 

     “No, you were – you were right before.  It does matter that Brendon didn’t do it.  I gave him hell for something he didn’t do so he was an ass.  I get it.  But he can’t… whatever.  I’m not going to bother with it.  I’m sorry about what I said about Jon. It’s your business that you like him.”  Spencer played with the paper ring on his water bottle.

     “I don’t -.”

     “It’s okay if you do,” Ryan said quickly, “Jon’s – he’s a good guy.”

     They ate (well, Spencer drank and Ryan ate) in silence, but it was comfortable, and Spencer was just happy to have Ryan back around.

\---

Jon

     “So, Jon, where do you see yourself in five years?”

     “Taking pictures and living in a box on the beach,” he grinned broadly, thinking of his conversation with Spencer.  Ashlee shook her head and smiled.  She hadn’t completely abandoned the state mandated form even though she thought the questions were unimaginative.

     “I guess I should be more specific.  What is your dream, Jon?”  He scratched the back of his neck in discomfort.  He didn’t like revealing these parts of himself to those who he didn’t think would understand.  He didn’t need to hear that photography would lead him nowhere.  He didn’t want someone to tell him to get a “real” job.

     “I, uh, I guess that I’d like to be a professional photographer.  At like, Rolling Stone or something.  I don’t want to get stuck in a dead end job that I’ll regret,” he said and waited for the shitty adult logic to come spilling out.

     “That sounds wonderful!  That must be an incredible job.  To be able to travel to all those places, capture those rare moments… it’s a great aspiration.”  And then Jon could breathe because he may have pretended to not care, but in all honesty, every time someone encouraged him, it made it seem that much more attainable.

     “Thanks,” he said, “actually, could you maybe write a recommendation for me?  I need three, and I only have one so far…” Ashlee waved him off.

     “Of course!  Just bring me the link to send it in tomorrow,” she smiled warmly at him, “now, there are about seven more questions on this paper, but I don’t like them, so we’re going to talk about other things. I really loved your performance for the class project.  Did you have fun?”

     “Yeah, it was pretty awesome.  I’ve never been in a band before.  Usually it’s just me and Brendon playing around on whatever instruments we can get our hands on.”

     “Do you think you’d like to pursue music one day?  Maybe minor in it even?”  Jon considered it for a moment.

     “I guess I’d never really put any thought into it because it’s Brendon’s thing, and he’s just better at it than anyone I know, but yeah.  I think I’d be interested in that.”  Ashlee grinned at him.

     “That’s good.  You are very talented, Jon, and I think California would be lucky to have you.”  Jon was relieved to hear it.  He could only hope California felt the same, but the University of Chicago was always on the table.  Something was keeping him from committing to UCLA completely.

 

Travis

     “I’ve been told that I’ll be working for Pete Wentz one day, so I’m sticking close to Chicago.  No use in fighting the little man.  Resistance is futile when it comes to Pete… I mean, just ask Patrick.  But, yeah, I’ll be at UC, probably for music, then somehow I’ll call Wentz my boss,” he paused, taking in Ashlee’s raised eyebrow, “that’s the plan anyway.”

 

Hayley

     “I was offered a full scholarship to Oxford University for vocal performance.  I’d like to be a vocal teacher one day, I suppose.  Or maybe a choral director.  I’m not really sure yet.”

     “Hayley, that’s so great. You deserve it. You are astoundingly talented.  You could really make something of yourself,” Ashlee said watching the small redhead fidget with the ends of her dyed hair.

     “Well, I mean, teaching is more of a backup to the big dream… I want to be a singer.”

     “Have you thought about putting together a band or sending demos to record labels after school?”  Hayley laughed.

     “I hate to admit this, but Pete Wentz owns my soul.  If I ever go down the record deal road, he has given himself full rights to my contract. You can’t really fight him…”

     “Resistance is futile?”  Hayley looked surprised and amused.

     “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was going to say!  How did you know?”

     “Lucky guess,” she said, stuffing yet another blank questionnaire into the trash.

 

Spencer

     “Spencer, you have quite an impressive record here.  Mostly A’s, all Honors and Advanced Placement classes, perfect attendance - not one bad mark. I noticed you’ve taken extra science classes instead of extracurricular ones.”  Ashlee flipped Spencer’s file shut while he wrung his hands and crossed, then uncrossed his ankles.

     “Yes, um, I wanted to go to NYU with my friends and become a doctor, neurosurgeon, actually.  I think the brain is – it’s awesome. I mean, I love music and the drums, but I’ve always wanted to be a doctor,” he said with a slight laugh.  Ashlee was always so impressed when one of her students showed such dedication to a particular dream, but there was that hesitation…

     “Wanted?”  Spencer frowned, misunderstanding her.

     “You said you wanted to go to NYU.  Is that not the plan anymore?” 

     “No,” he said too quickly, “I mean – yes.  I was thinking, maybe, uh, maybe UCLA?” He asked as if he needed her reassurance.  Ashlee thought briefly back to Jon, but dismissed the idea.  UCLA was a large school and many people wanted to go there, she was sure.

     “Well, UCLA is a great school.  They have a nice medical school, too,” she said encouraging him.  In her opinion, Spencer could go anywhere he wanted with grades like his.

    “What changed your decision, if you don’t mind my asking?”  Spencer shrugged, but his shoulders remained tense.

     “Uh, well, it’s a good school like you said, and it’s warm…” he said trailing off, and she was again taken back to her conversation with Jon.

     “You know, your friend Jon is headed that way, too.  I’m actually writing a recommendation for him – I’d just as quickly write one for you.”  Spencer seemed frozen in his seat.

     “Spencer,” Ashlee asked, mildly alarmed, “are you alright?”  He nodded quickly and a choked sound came from his throat.

     “I wasn’t aware,” he lied, “but the recommendation… I’d really appreciate it.”  She settled back into her chair, a tentative smile crossed her face.

     “Bring the link to send it in tomorrow” she said softly.  He nodded and smiled back at her, albeit tightly.  He had no idea where the UCLA thing had come from.  Well, he knew, but he didn’t know why he’d said anything to Ashlee about it.  Regardless, he tried to convince himself that his friends and New York’s chill were better than California’s heat and Jon Walker.

\---

     “Hey.”  Patrick jumped, slamming his locker shut and coming face to face with Pete. He held his textbooks tight against his chest in an attempt to steady himself.

     “Christ, Pete,” he breathed, “you scared the shit out of me.”  Pete reached out to tug Patrick’s books away from him, storing them under his own arm.  It was such a normal habit that it took Patrick a moment to come to his senses and take them back.

     “Sorry,” Pete said sheepishly, “are you okay, Trick?  You ran out pretty fast the other day, and I thought were good, but -.” 

     “We’re fine.  I just really needed to run.”  Pete nodded.

     “Right… you say that, but I don’t believe that weak-ass excuse.  I’ve known you since I was five, Trick.  Don’t think you can lie to me that easily.”  Patrick didn’t want to tell Pete that he was lying to him every time he said things were okay.

     “Pete, I’m going to be late for my one-on-one with Ashlee…” Patrick said moving around him, but Pete grabbed his arm.

     “Nope, come here,” he said pushing Patrick into the boys’ bathroom to their right.  Patrick struggled, but under the weight of his books, backpack, and Pete’s arm, he caved and allowed himself to be shoved inside.

     “I don’t have time for this -.”

     “Make time,” Pete’s tone radiated anger, “why the fuck are you lying to me?  Why did you run out of my house the other day?  What are you hiding?”  Patrick looked at his shoes.  He wasn’t ready to discuss anything with Pete regarding their relationship.

     “Is it – is it about what happened?  You know, between us? I’m sorry that you -.”

     “I’m seeing someone!”  Patrick reeled back.  Who the fuck had said that? Because Patrick knew he wasn’t stupid enough to say something like that, but Pete was looking at him like he’d just punched him in the stomach.

     “You’re seeing someone?” he said slowly and quietly.

     “Yeah, for a couple weeks now,” Patrick heard himself say.  Pete was pale, but Patrick couldn’t bring himself to reach out to him.

     “Why didn’t you tell me?  Who, um, who is it?  Or, you know, where did you meet him?”  Pete angled his face away from Patrick’s view because he suddenly felt like crying.

     “You don’t know him.  His name is Alex, and we met at Nate’s record store on Brocade Street.” Holy hell, he was a man possessed.  Where was this all coming from?

     “Listen,” Patrick was still surprised at how steady his voice was despite the bullshit spilling from his mouth, “I’m going to be late if I don’t head her way… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I wasn’t sure it was anything serious” he added as he walked out of the bathroom.  As soon as the door closed behind Patrick, Pete slid down the wall.  Patrick was seeing someone, and Pete felt like someone was running a steamroller over his chest, which made absolutely no sense.  Patrick was his best friend, and he wanted him to be happy – but not with whomever the fuck Alex was.  He didn’t cry, but his vision was blurry enough that his text to William looked more like black ants running across his phone.

     He felt like he’d sat there an eternity when the bathroom door opened cautiously and he could see the thin figures in the doorway and lowered his head back into his hands.

     “He’s dating someone,” Pete mumbled into his palms as William sat next to him, and Gabe stood still in front of them.  Gabe was beginning to see that Patrick was dumber than he’d thought.

\---

Patrick

     “Hi there, Mr. Valedictorian,” Ashlee smiled as Patrick entered the room, but it quickly faded as she took his expression in.

     “Patrick…”  He shook his head and coughed then forced a smile on his face.

     “Sorry, I’m late.  Could I – would you mind if I got a rain check on this?  I’m not feeling too great.”  Ashlee nodded quickly.

     “Of course, we’ll discuss it later.  You look ill, Patrick.  Do you need to use the phone?  Call your parents?”  Patrick looked relieved, a nice break from the nauseous look he’d been sporting. She pushed her office phone towards him and told him to dial nine first.

     “Dad,” Patrick said after a moment, “can you come get me?  I didn’t take mom’s car today. – Yes. – I don’t feel well. – Thank you. – Love you, too, dad.”  He placed the phone back on the receiver.

     “Thank you,” he said, pulling his bag higher on his back, and Ashlee waved him off.

     “Anytime, feel better, Patrick,” she said concerned as he walked out the door.  She couldn’t help thinking that maybe Patrick wasn’t so much sick as he was upset.  Some people just had the kind of face that gave them away.

 

Brendon

     “Where are you headed, Brendon?” Ashlee asked watching the boy’s knee bouncing in rhythm to his head bobbing.

     “I’m applying to the Berkley School of Music in Boston for music performance,” he said smiling at her brightly.

     “That is going to be a perfect fit for you,” she said.  She wasn’t bothering with the questionnaires anymore.  It made more sense to actually get to know the student instead of asking generic questions that they would reply to with rehearsed answers. She’d just fill in some of the surveys herself and turn them in.

     “Yeah, I think so.  I’ll miss everybody, but it’s where I want to go.”

     “Yes, I spoke with Jon already,” she said mentioning his best friend, “he’s going to California.”  Brendon nodded excitedly.

     “Yeah!  I can’t wait to visit.  California is awesome.  I’ve only been twice, but once I went with Pete and the guys – and it was so cool.  We had the best time!” 

     “Please tell me Pete doesn’t own your soul, too,” she murmured under her breath.

     “What?”

     “Nothing, uh, Brendon, the project you just did with Ryan, Spencer, and Jon – how did you like that?”  Immediately, like a switch, Brendon’s face fell into a tight smile and he sat back a little into his seat as he shrugged.

     “The project was cool.  It was fun,” he said automatically.  Ashlee nodded slowly, hesitant to continue.

     “Well, it’s just that I know you’ll have to go to Boston to audition for the school after your initial acceptance, and I was curious if you’d use that song.  It was wonderful and you sang it beautifully.”

     “It’s Ryan’s song,” he said.

     “Yes, but –.”

      “Can I go?  I don’t want to miss my Chemistry class.  I’m already failing it pretty horribly,” he lied, huffing out a laugh.  Ashlee gaped at him, but gave her consent anyway.  She was getting run out on quite a bit today.

     “Brendon,” she called when he reached the door, “is everything alright?”

     “Yeah, definitely.  Thanks!”  And she was left alone again.

Vicky

     “Bill said you were giving advice on relationships,” Vicky said as soon as she entered Ashlee’s office.

     “Bill is a liar,” Ashlee smirked.

      “So… no advice, then?”

     “Nope,” Ashlee said.

     “Okay, well in that case, I really need to get going!”  Vicky all but ran out the door leaving an annoyed Ashlee behind.  If one more person ditched her today…

\---

     Okay, there was some conspiracy going on against her.  Not only had Greta left half way through her meeting, but Gabe, Pete, and Ryan didn’t even show up.  Ryan at least had a legitimate reason and called to let her know he had a conference call with the head of the English department at NYU.  She was pretty damn proud that he’d been persistent enough with the university to get the call.  Gabe had stuck his head in the door and told her that he and Pete weren’t going to be able to make it because the latter boy was sick, and he was going to wait with him until he was picked up.  She supposed she couldn’t exactly call any of them out on ditching the appointments, but it was a little more than annoying that they were treating their futures with such flippancy.  It seemed her students didn’t care about much more than relationships and parties.

     It wasn’t until she was on the phone with her boyfriend twenty minutes later that she realized something.

     “All my students are gay,” she said and her boyfriend laughed loudly.

     “What?”

     “They are!  Almost all of them… and they’re all dating each other! Oh my God, what the hell did I get myself into?”  Ashlee put her head down on her desk and listened to her boyfriend’s continuous laughter.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**October 2012**

     Saturday parties at William Beckett’s house were nothing new, but since Halloween was Gabe’s favorite holiday (after his birthday, of course), William held nothing back.  Nothing was too expensive or unnecessary when it came to Gabe.  Even in light of new events regarding Pete and Patrick, William had decided to go ahead with the party, hoping it would put everyone in a better mood.  He’d left Gabe with Pete while he went in search of a costume for Pete who, despite William’s better judgment, had taken to ignoring his pain and was just “having fun”.  Gabe had been in charge of two things: let in the decorators and actors (because a Halloween party wasn’t complete without authentic looking dead people, according to William), and making sure Pete didn’t do anything stupid (like go looking for a guy named Alex at the record store on Brocade Street).

     William hoped in the back of his head that Patrick would still come to the party, and honestly, he didn’t believe for a second that Patrick was seeing anyone.  He wasn’t any more capable of dating someone who wasn’t his best friend than Pete was.  He had nearly called Patrick to tell him to bring this Alex with him, but he wasn’t that ruthless.

     By the time William got home, his house had been turned into some sort of horror movie setting.  He honked his horn to get Gabe to help him with the bags and saw the boy running out the door.  William got out of his car and met Gabe by the trunk, pulling him into an enthusiastic kiss.  William laughed against his mouth.

     “What’s with you?” William asked given that Gabe was practically shaking with excitement.

     “Well, I think I want to marry Brendon.”  William began pulling various bags out of the trunk, handing some to Gabe.

     “And why is that?”

     “I may have been calling around to see if Patrick was coming tonight,” Gabe paused at William’s half-hearted glare, “and I may have talked to Brendon.  He said he’d already talked to Patrick and convinced him to come to the party.  He’s Jesus!”  William laughed, shutting the lid of his trunk.

     “I wouldn’t say Brendon is Jesus…”

     “No!  Patrick is Jesus!  I mean, that’s his costume,” Gabe said excitedly, “please tell me you got Pete the Virgin Mary costume or something.”  William shook his head and opened one of the larger bags in his hand.  Gabe looked into the bag and then up at him.

     “You’re kidding me,” he deadpanned.

     “Oh, bite me!  It’s Halloween tomorrow.  This is all they had left.”  Gabe chuckled and followed William inside where he found Pete dancing with one of the prop Zombies.

     “I think this girl was probably hot before she went off and died,” Pete said dipping the fake rotted body.

     “He’s been this disturbing since you left,” Gabe whispered to him, and William thought, _great_.  Now, he could enjoy not only Pete’s bottled up emotions, but also his insanity.

     “Okay, Pete, put the lady down.  We’ve got to get ready.  Party’s in an hour,” William called to him and made his way upstairs.  Gabe followed close and asked him what they should do.

     “My plan is to force them on each other.  Get the truth out and see if I can keep them from fucking up my party.”  Gabe pressed another kiss to William’s neck.

     “Let’s see if I can make you feel better,” Gabe said, passing him on the way to William’s room.  He dropped the bags outside the door and pulled his shirt off, and William tripped over himself getting to Gabe, kicking the bedroom door closed behind him.

\---

     Jon and Brendon arrived at the party an hour late all because Brendon couldn’t find his vest.  He’d explained to Jon that no one would know who he was without his vest, though Jon disagreed.  Everyone knew Brendon was coming as Aladdin because he’d been raving about his costume for weeks.  He’d allowed Brendon to pick his costume for William’s party simply because he couldn’t think of anything, and thankfully, Brendon had done well.  Jon was dressed as Indiana Jones, who was relatively awesome, and he had a whip, which, come on, a whip is cool.  Brendon told Jon that he was finally ready to be Indiana Jones given how “rugged and manly” he looked nowadays.

     As they knocked on William’s door, the seemingly still zombie next to them raised a hand and pushed the door open.  Jon jumped a foot off the ground, yelling, “Holy shit!”  Brendon, though, laughed loudly and clapped the actor on the back.

     “That was awesome, dude,” he said.  Leave it to William to have a real guy scaring the hell out of people on his front porch.  Jon ushered Brendon away from the actor and pushed him into the house where they were immediately greeted by Gabe in his John Lennon costume, round glasses and all.

     “Jonny, Brenny, you’re here!  Come join the festivities!  There is beer in the kitchen, so help yourselves.  Oh, and if you see Bill, tell him to find me.  He owes me for the awesome blow-.”

     “Thank you, Gabe!  We’ll tell him,” Jon interrupted Gabe, who made his way back into the crowd of people, and Jon felt Brendon tense beside him.

     “Oh my God… Greta is Aurora!”  He said and sped off towards the girl in pink.  Jon snorted and pushed his hat back on his head as he made his way to the kitchen.  As he walked in, he found Pete, William, Vicky, Spencer, and Ryan crowded around the island in the middle of the room.  Pete was filling up a row of shot glasses in his big, fluffy, pink bunny suit, and Jon hoped Brendon didn’t see it or he’d get hell for not taking Brendon’s original idea.  Vicky was squashed between Pete and William, but from what Jon could see of her, he could tell she was Betty Boop.  William, in his Beetlejuice costume, raised his shot in a cheers gesture, and Ryan didn’t seem to have a shot of his own as he raised a bottle of water to tap against their glasses.

     Spencer… Jon noticed him immediately in his black tux.  The only off part was the ‘Hello, my name is’ sticker stuck to the lapel, and in the white space in black marker were the words ‘Bond, James Bond’.  Jon wandered inside and allowed Vicky to pull him into the group.

     “Jon Walker, who might you be?”  She asked sliding a cup of beer towards him.

     “I’m Indiana Jones.  See my whip?” he turned to show her his hip.  She laughed and wrapped her thin arm around him, already feeling the effects of the four shots she’d taken so far.

     “You should be a sexy cowboy.”  Jon heard across the kitchen and looked over to see William talking to Ryan, who was a cowboy given the hat that was laying next to him and the ugly brown boots.  William had his hands on Ryan’s shirt, undoing the top three buttons, and Ryan just smiled and allowed the slightly tipsy boy to clumsily push his collar open.

     “Indiana Jones, huh?”  Jon turned to see Spencer had found his way to him, an identical cup of beer in his hand. Vicky lost interest in him quickly and went to rejoin William.

     “And Bond, James Bond,” he said reading the name tag, and Spencer looked down as well, smiling.

     “Oh, yeah, Gabe made it for me.  He said, and I quote, ‘if you don’t, people will think you’re just sexy suit guy and not sexy James Bond.’”

     “We have something in common then.  Brendon told me I looked sexy, too.”  Spencer grinned at him, teeth straight and white.

     “To being sexy,” he said lifting his cup, feeling a little more confident thanks to the alcohol.  Jon met him and tapped his cup to Spencer’s and then took a long drink.  He watched over the brim as Spencer took a drink as well, and told himself not to notice the way Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

     “Ryan seems to be in a good mood,” Jon nodded in Ryan’s direction, and Spencer looked over his shoulder to see Ryan sitting on the kitchen counter laughing as Vicky and William attempted to outdrink each other.

     “Yeah,” Spencer said turning back to Jon, “he had a conference call with the head of the English department at NYU, and it went extremely well apparently.  I guess that means I need to hurry and apply.”  Jon frowned.

     “Wait, you’re going to New York?  I thought – you used to say you were going to stay in Chicago.”  Spencer sipped at his beer.

     “Uh, yeah, sophomore year Ryan convinced me to go.”

     “Are you still going to be a doctor?”  Spencer nodded excitedly.

     “Yeah, that won’t change,” he said.

     “Yeah, you always played doctor with me.”

     “That’s because you were always the one doing stupid shit with William and Ryan.  I had to bandage you up a few times,” Spencer said smirking.  As he shrugged, Jon noticed Spencer’s tie shift to the side, and he reached out, pulling Spencer to him to fix it.

     “Jon?” he asked, but Jon ignored him, straightening the tie.  He ran his hand over Spencer’s lapel where the name sticker sat and smoothed it over.

     “There, looking good, Spencer Smith.”  Jon was proud of himself for being so forward.  Brendon had given him his blessing, after all, and Jon was going to treat Spencer the way he’d always wanted to.  He watched Spencer duck his head and murmur thanks.

     “Hey, Joe is getting iced outside!” Travis, or Bob Marley as he was dressed, yelled from the doorway.  Jon nodded his head after Travis, eyes on Spencer, and waited until the blonde boy followed everyone out.  Ryan pushed William to go join them, but remained on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs back to knock against the cabinets.  Hayley, in her Poison Ivy costume, was the last person to leave the kitchen after pouring herself another drink, and Ryan was finally alone.

     “Where the hell did everybody go?”  Or maybe not.  Brendon came around the corner quickly, and Ryan let himself smile briefly at Brendon’s costume.  Brendon stopped as soon as he noticed Ryan on the counter and suddenly, Brendon felt fourteen again.  William’s house, huge party, and Ryan sitting on the beer-littered counter in the kitchen… it was coming back so fast it was difficult to breathe.

     “Ryan,” Brendon said surprised, even though he knew Ryan was going to be at the party.  Brendon continued, “um, have you -,” he stopped, and looked at Ryan’s hands gripping a nearly empty water bottle, “You’re not drinking?” Ryan shook his head.

     “No, I don’t really drink.  Not anymore,” Ryan told him, but didn’t offer an explanations to why, “you?”  Brendon scoffed and crossed his arms over his mostly bare chest (and Ryan was not looking, damn it!).

     “I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he glared.  Ryan shook his head, a bitter laugh spilling from his mouth.  Of course, Brendon didn’t know how to be civil.

     “Christ, Urie, it was just a question.  No need to get your panties in a twist,” Ryan picked up his water and finished it off.  Brendon was so not watching his throat move when he swallowed, and he was definitely not noticing how Ryan’s unbuttoned collar exposed his collarbones.

    “Fuck you,” Brendon hissed, and Ryan may have been a little afraid of the tone, but seeing Brendon in his Aladdin costume made him laugh instead.  Brendon started towards him.

     “What is so goddamn funny?”

     “I can’t take you seriously in that fucking ridiculous outfit,” Ryan challenged and Brendon was close enough that Ryan could see the pores in Brendon’s (stupid, perfect) skin.

     “And what about you,” Brendon was too close, “what the fuck is this?”  He gestured to Ryan’s unbuttoned collar, and Ryan feverishly wished that he hadn’t allowed Bill to do it.  Brendon’s lips pulled into a sneer, “are you trying to get laid?  Because I hate to tell you – no wait, who am I kidding?  I’d love to tell you that no one would touch you.  Stop whoring yourself out, Ross.”  If Ryan hadn’t felt completely destroyed by Brendon’s words, he would have noticed Brendon’s hands placed just outside of his.

     “Brendon,” Jon said sharply from the doors leading to the backyard, but Brendon didn’t move, his eyes continued to burn holes into Ryan.  Jon said his name again, then once more, but it was finally Patrick who grabbed Brendon’s arm and pulled him back.  Patrick, Ryan thought ironically, was dressed perfectly for his role as savior.

     “Come on, Brendon, let’s go see everybody outside,” Patrick said leading the boy out the door, and Jon moved to let them past, but couldn’t seem to make eye contact with Brendon.  He watched Ryan attempt to button up his shirt, but his hands shook fiercely instead.

     “Ryan,” Jon said as he closed the door behind him, “I’m sorry.  He -.”

     “Don’t, Jon, I don’t want to hear you apologize for him.  He treats me like shit, and for what?  What exactly did I do?”  Jon looked a little surprised.

     “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?  William’s party freshman year…”  Ryan looked at Jon angrily.  He jumped off the counter and drew himself to his full height, a few inches taller than Jon, but Jon didn’t let himself be intimidated.

     “I’m so fucking sick of hearing about the party!  It was just the cherry on top of what will go down as the worst fucking night of my life.  Not only did I get kicked out of my house, but I lost him because of some nosy fuckers who couldn’t leave the goddamn door closed!”  Jon did cower slightly after Ryan’s outburst, but then something occurred to him.

     “What do you mean?  Lost who?”  Ryan threw his hands up.

     “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “Brendon.  I lost Brendon.  You should’ve known, Jon.  You and I used to be inseparable.  Did you really think I was capable of doing that?  I worshipped the ground he walked on after three days!  It wasn’t – it wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”  Jon stared at Ryan because, what?  He could barely comprehend what was being thrown at him because Ryan had never seemed even a little apologetic about that night.

     “Brendon didn’t tell your parents you were gay,” Jon sputtered out of nowhere, and Ryan’s mouth formed a tight line.

     “I know,” he said, shrugging as if it was no big deal now, “and I didn’t tell anyone Brendon was in there.  I didn’t – I wouldn’t…”  Ryan stopped.  He reached out to Ryan, slowly, like he was asking permission.  Ryan gave a short nod and felt himself being tugged into a hug by the last person (other than Brendon) he thought would ever hug him again.

     “Fuck, Ry,” he used the old nickname so causally it made Ryan’s heart ache, “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”  Ryan let himself smile into Jon’s shoulder as he was led outside.

     William wasn’t drunk, not really anyway.  He’d just finished watching Joe throw back the Smirnoff like it was nothing when Patrick had come outside with his hand wrapped around Brendon’s arm.  Pete, who had been speaking animatedly with William, stopped and set down his empty drink, ready to confront Patrick, but Gabe immediately pulled him into a conversation in order to keep him from storming up to Patrick and giving him his best “fuck you” in his bunny suit.  William, on the other hand, who was not really that drunk, did approach Patrick.  As William reached him, Brendon shrugged Patrick off and allowed Vicky and Travis to pull him away.

     “Hey Jesus,” Bill said as he slid his arm around Patrick’s neck and directed him towards the side of the house.  Patrick sighed but didn’t reply, and William continued to round the house until they were a good twenty feet from the party.  Then he rounded on Patrick, almost spilling his drink saying, “Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding?”  Patrick stepped back in surprise.

     “I’m sorry?” 

     William nodded, “you should be.  I don’t believe for one second that you’re seeing someone.  And since I’m a little tipsy, I’m going to tell you that you and Pete need to suck it up and get your shit together,” he tipped his cup back and finished his beer, “now, because you are coming to the cabin with us whether you like it or not.”

     “Bill…”

     “No, Patrick.  Fix this.”  William wanted to make a grand exit, but Patrick wouldn’t allow it.

     “I can’t.  I’ve already – I’ve already lied.  What makes you think he’d even want me there after I tell him that I lied?”  Bill rolled his eyes.

     “Because no matter what you do, Pete will always think you hang the moon and that the fucking sun shines out of your ass.”  William left Patrick alone and joined the party once more, determined to make the most out of the shitty night.  When he found Gabe again, Pete was missing.

     “He took off around the other side of the house,” Gabe told him, Pete’s bunny hat in his hands.  William thought about going back and playing mediator, but he decided it was about damn time Pete and Patrick fought it out.  They could take pointers from Brendon and Ryan if they were lost.

\---

     “Trick.”  Patrick turned to see Pete and immediately launched into his story.

     “Hey, Pete.  Listen, about the boyfriend -.”

     “No, let me.  I’m sorry I was a dick.  I’m happy for you, Trick.  I really – it’s great that you’ve found someone,” Pete remained a few feet from Patrick because if he got closer, Patrick might be able to see his throat closing up, but Patrick had a different idea though and moved close.

     “I haven’t,” he was staring at the ground, and Pete wished they weren’t dressed so ridiculously for this conversation.

     “You haven’t what?”

     “Found anyone,” Patrick said, but he still refused to look Pete in the eyes.

     “What?  Why did you say you -?”

     “I don’t know.  I don’t want to talk about it.  I just want us to be friends again, Pete.  Please don’t be pissed at me.  I don’t want to waste our senior year with this back and forth bullshit.  Let’s just let bygones be bygones and move on,” Patrick finished quickly, and he wished suddenly he had his hat to hide under, but Pete surprised him.

     “Yeah,” he smiled, “yeah, okay.” Pete was confused and unsure of why Patrick lied to him, but at the moment, there was nothing that could bring Pete down. Patrick wasn’t seeing anyone, and Pete pulled him into a hug.

     “Good, because William was going to cause me bodily harm if I didn’t go to the cabin,” Patrick said into Pete’s cheek and for the first time in months, Patrick didn’t feel like jumping Pete’s bones.  He was perfectly content to hug his best friend.

\---

     Brendon wanted to punch everyone within his reach in the face.  He had been watching the three boys for an hour.  When Jon and Ryan had come outside, Brendon thought he was hallucinating.  Jon had his arm thrown over Ryan’s shoulder, just like he’d done with Brendon millions of times before, and they were talking happily about something as they approached Spencer.  Brendon noted that Spencer had the decency to be surprised, at least, at the sight of his best friend and Jon.  He watched them laugh and joke like they’d done when Brendon first met them, and in the back of his head Brendon knew it was his fault they’d ever stopped.

     “Brendon?”  Pete was waving his hand in front of Brendon’s face.

     “What?” he snapped, but Pete was unfazed. 

     “What’s wrong with you?”  Brendon tore his eyes once more from the trio and realized that Hayley, Travis, and Vicky had moved along to talk to Joe and Andy.  He guessed he wasn’t so great for conversation when he was glaring at everyone.  Brendon shook his head, and said, “nothing, Pete.  Sorry.”  Then he moved towards Jon because, fuck this.  Jon was his friend now, and Ryan wasn’t allowed to keep taking things from Brendon.  He heard Pete calling out to him, but he ignored him and stopped behind Jon.  Spencer was the first to see him, and Brendon almost stopped because Spencer seemed so happy that Brendon didn’t know if he could fuck it up.  The moment Ryan laughed, though, Brendon’s eyes narrowed and he tapped on Jon’s shoulder.

     “Hey, Bren,” he said nervously.  Brendon tried not to yell at him or punch Ryan.

     “Hey, are we going to hang tonight or tomorrow, or what?” Jon looked guilty, and that pissed Brendon off.

     “Actually, Ryan and Spencer just invited me to go downtown with them tomorrow,” Jon said, “but if you want we can hang out after the party.  I figured you’d stay with me tonight anyway.”  Brendon snorted.

     “You thought wrong,” Brendon said and glanced at Ryan.  Ryan who was smirking.  Ryan who Brendon was going to fucking kill.

     “You know what, Ross, you can have Jon.  It’s obvious you need him around.  He and Spencer are the only ones who could put up with you.  They’re the only ones who can stand you,” he said getting close, “are you lonely, Ry?”  He said, watching as the smirk fell off Ryan’s face.  Jon was tense next to them, “I’m not someone to be given away, Brendon.  I can’t believe how shitty you’re being right now. We’ve talked about this.  This isn’t you.”

     Brendon laughed, “it is, though, Jon,” he turned back to Ryan, “Ryan makes me an asshole, I guess.”  Ryan pushed Brendon back just enough to breathe easily, but Brendon wasn’t going to have it, and he went to rush him, but Jon stopped him.

     “No, Brendon.  That’s enough, go home,” Jon said briefly forgetting that he had driven them there.  Brendon, surprisingly, didn’t fight, and in his mildly drunken state he said, sadly, “thank you, Ryan.  You’ve finally taken everything from me.  It started with my dignity and it ends with my best friend.  Thank you for leaving me nothing.”  He backed away, turning to leave, but bumped into Tyson, a bass player in their music class, instead.

     “Hey, Brendon.”  Brendon nodded at him and went to go around him, but Tyson stopped him.

     “Hey, wait, you’re not leaving are you?” 

     “Yeah, I’m headed that way,” he said trying to get around him once more.  Jon, Spencer, and Ryan stared at Brendon and Tyson, and Jon, though he’d just told Brendon to leave, was about to step in.

     “Well, let me drive you then.  I saw you came with Jon,” he said angling his hips towards Brendon, and Spencer noticed Ryan’s hands were balled into fists behind his back.  Jon seemed to realize that, yes, Brendon _had_ ridden with him.

     “Brendon, wait!  I’ll drive you back.  I’m sorry  I forgot we rode together,” Jon said approaching them, but Brendon moved closer to Tyson.

     “That’s okay, Tyson is going to give me a ride,” he said, and Spencer was actually worried about Brendon.  Ryan had an unfortunate run in with Tyson back when they were freshman, and Ryan had been quick to tell Tyson to fuck off and that he wasn’t interested. The guy was a complete man-whore, and Brendon was vulnerable.  Tyson smiled and slung a sleazy arm around Brendon.

     “Bren,” Jon began, but Brendon stopped him.

     “It’s cool, Jon.  Go have fun with your friends,” he said and allowed Tyson to pull him in closer as they walked away, and Jon turned back to Spencer and Ryan.

     “Go after him,” Spencer said quickly, but Jon shook his head and joined them again.

     “No, if he wants to act this way, he can. He made his choice, and I’ve made mine.”

     “Tyson’s a slut,” Ryan seethed, and Jon nodded in agreement.

     “Brendon’s tougher than he looks,” Jon smiled slightly at Ryan, “you should know that.  Killer right hook, right?”  Ryan didn’t answer, but he knew it was true, and that Brendon could definitely hold his own.

     “You don’t have to choose, Jon.  You can still be friends with Brendon and us,” Spencer told him, and Jon allowed himself to reach out and brush a hand over Spencer shoulder.  Something he never thought he’d be able to do again.

     “Thanks, I know,” he said, but he also knew that all bets were off now, and Brendon would not be content sharing after all.

\---

     Thank God for Pete Wentz.  It was a mantra half of the senior class had come to know, and Brendon had never been more grateful in his life to see crazy Pete and (mostly sane) Patrick by his side.  Pete took one look at Brendon under Tyson’s arm and started toward them.

     “Hey, Bren,” he said, Patrick following behind him, “where are you headed?”  Tyson smiled smugly, again, and told Pete he was taking Brendon home.

     “Oh, that’s nice, but Brendon already has plans with us.  Did you forget?”  Pete asked and Brendon, who had moderately good acting skills, looked wide eyed at Tyson.

     “Oh, shit, yeah.  I completely blanked,” he said untangling himself from Tyson, “I’m sorry.”  Tyson put his hands up, and shrugged.

     “Yeah, whatever tease,” he huffed under his breath and walked off.  Brendon threw himself at Pete.

     “Thank you,” he said, and Patrick smiled at him while Pete hugged Brendon back, “get me out of here.”  Pete reached back for Patrick behind him and felt the other boy take his hand.

     “Let’s go,” Pete said pulling Patrick and Brendon away from the party and to his car.

\---

     Jon had not felt so excited to be at school in a long time.  When he’d gotten into music class that morning, Ryan had waved him over to sit by him, and Jon had taken a seat next to him, and Spencer had his chair turned to face them both until class started.  It took him forty five minutes to realize that Brendon was not there, which worried him because he hadn’t heard from Brendon since the party.  He looked over to where Tyson usually sat and his stomach dropped because Tyson wasn’t there either.  Jon couldn’t believe what an idiot he was.  He shouldn’t have let Brendon leave with Tyson.  Where the fuck was he?  Jon must have looked panicked because in the middle of Ashlee’s lecture, Ryan whispered, “you okay?”  Jon looked at him and shook his head pulling a scrap sheet of paper out of his bag.

     He pulled his pencil out of his pocket and wrote: _Brendon isn’t here._   Ryan looked up at Jon and shrugged.  Jon continued, _neither is Tyson_.  This caused Ryan to sit up and look towards Tyson’s friends before he grabbed the pencil from Jon and jotted down, _talked to him?_   Jon shook his head.  Ryan wrote: _I’m sure he’s fine.  Being a drama queen as usual._ Jon nodded and gave him a tight smile, but he was unconvinced.  He could just see Brendon and Tyson… No, he wasn’t going to think about it.  Pete, who had apparently been reading over his shoulder like a creep, tapped him and handed him another piece of paper.

     Jon unfolded it and read, _B’s fine. T’s sick._  Jon wrote back quickly, _How do you know?_ Moments later Pete threw the paper back, _I’ve seen him._   Jon turned in his seat and whispered, “where?”  But Pete shook his head.

     “He doesn’t want to see you,” Pete muttered, and Ryan spun around, suddenly livid.

     “What the hell did Jon do?  Tell Brendon to stop being such a bitch.”  Jon was going to defend his friend, but at the moment he just wanted to know where he was.

     “Pete, please,” he said glancing back at Ashlee as she rambled on about clef notes.  Pete shook his head once more, but Patrick elbowed him, “just tell him.”  Pete huffed, unable to deny Patrick, and leaned forward in his seat.

     “Okay, he’s at my house, but he doesn’t want to see you.  He’s been there since Saturday night.  I drove him there after the party, so he leave with Tyson,” he turned to Ryan, who was keeping his head firmly forward, “and no, he’s not being a bitch.”  Pete leaned back in his seat, and Jon felt the finality of their conversation.  He knew exactly where he was going after class.

\---

     In the end, Spencer found himself at Pete’s house.  Jon had been asked to stay after by Ashlee, and Spencer, who had been filled in by Pete, decided to prove that he was the bigger person.  All he wanted was Jon to be happy, which couldn’t happen unless he had his best friend.  He’d asked Pete for his house key and told Pete that Brendon hadn’t said he didn’t want to see him, just Jon, so, technically, Pete wouldn’t be breaking a rule.  Finally, Patrick had sighed at Pete’s stubbornness, pulled his own key to Pete’s house off his key ring and gave it to Spencer.

     Then there he was, wondering what the hell he was doing.  He used the key even as he knocked, entering the house, and was immediately attacked by Hemingway. Spencer leaned down and tried to calm him when Brendon came down the stairs.

     “He doesn’t like you,” Brendon said as Hemingway rolled over for Spencer to rub his belly.  Spencer looked up at Brendon in a baggy pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt and noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin and the greasy hair.  He looked like shit, and Spencer voiced it.

     “Thanks, you too,” he said staying near the steps, “did Jon send you because -.”

     “Jon doesn’t know I’m here,” Spencer said standing and shoving his hands into his pockets.  Brendon looked at him with suspicion.

     “Then why are you here?”

     “Because Jon’s miserable.  Yesterday, when we went into town – he talked about you.  He defended you to Ryan even though you’re not on good terms.  I know you hate me and Ryan, but Jon’s your best friend.  We don’t care that he wants to be your friend, so you shouldn’t care that he wants to be ours.”  Brendon shook his head, “I don’t.  Hate you, I mean.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”  Spencer masked his surprise.

     “Neither did Jon.  Neither did Ryan, for that matter.”  Brendon rolled his eyes.

     “Right because humiliating me wasn’t wrong.”  Spencer laughed a little.

     “He didn’t.  Ryan was obsessed with you after three days.  He would have probably have thrown himself under a bus for you, so do you honestly think he’d do anything to hurt you?  Those people found you by accident.  It was shitty what happened to you, Brendon, but Ryan had nothing to do with it,” Spencer added, “believe what you want, though.”  Brendon said nothing as he stood awkwardly by the staircase.

     “Anyway, I’m here about Jon.  Jon loves you, and I know you’re feeling left out, but suck it up because we’re all still going to the cabin together whether you like it or not.  We’re getting the hell out of Chicago for a while, and you and Jon are going to be weird little best friends all over again, okay?”  Brendon crossed his arms.

     “I’m still driving,” he said defiantly, and Spencer bit back a smile at his quick victory.

     “Fine, we’ll sort details later,” he said.

     “Fine,” Brendon called as Spencer walked out.  As soon as the door closed behind him, Spencer grinned.  He’d done it, and he was feeling rather happy with himself when Jon’s car pulled into the driveway.  Spencer watched him park and get out, amused at the confusion on his face.

     “Spencer?  What are you -?”

     “It’s done.  I took care of it.  You two are going to sort things out, and he’s still driving us to the cabin.”  Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

     “You’re welcome,” Spencer said, joy flooding through him because he’d helped Jon.  He smiled at him, and before he could do anything stupid, like hug Jon, Spencer walked toward his car.  He had his hand on the handle when Jon grabbed his arm and spun him around.  Spencer felt his back being pressed into the car, and Jon’s body was slowly fitting against his.

     “This shirt still smells like you, you know,” he said, and before Spencer could register that Jon was wearing the shirt he’d lent Spencer at the club, Jon’s mouth was on his.  It took him a minute, but soon Spencer was clutching Jon’s shoulders, letting Jon push him into the side of his car.  At the swipe of Jon’s tongue, Spencer immediately granted him entrance.

     By the time Jon pulled away, Spencer wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore.  Jon buried his face into Spencer’s neck and pressed his hands onto the car on either side of Spencer.

     “I’ve wanted to do that for five years,” Spencer laughed against Jon’s hair.  Jon smiled and pressed another kiss to Spencer’s neck.

     “So…” Jon said into his neck, and Spencer pulled him up, gathering himself.

      “So, nothing.  We’re not going to talk this to death.  We kissed, we liked it, and we’ll probably do it more.  A lot more, actually, and I don’t think we should tell Brendon or Ryan about this until everything has blown over.”  Jon grinned and Spencer’s fingers tightened around his face.

     “Ugh,” Jon said, “you’re so fucking -.”  He broke off to kiss Spencer once more, “let’s get back to school.  Ryan will wonder where we are.”  Spencer nodded and after another few minutes of making out against Spencer’s car, they parted ways and drove back to school.  Spencer let his head lay on the steering wheel, smiling so hard his jaw hurt.  Nothing in the world could have felt better.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**December 2012**

          Brendon had come to realize that the more he dreaded driving up to the cabin with Jon, Spencer, and Ryan, the faster it approached.  November had gone so quickly, Brendon wondered if it had even come. Suddenly, there he was, Christmas day, waking up to the dark clouds pouring out a constant stream of heavy snow.  Brendon could hear voices coming from downstairs and figured Jon was already up and most likely helping Brendon’s grandmother in the kitchen.  Since Jon had emancipated himself, he’d been lonely over the holidays, and then he’d met Brendon, who wasn’t about to let his best friend spend Christmas alone. 

     Brendon shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen where he found Jon leaning against the counter and Grams sat at a small dining table a couple of feet away.  They were laughing over something regarding the large amount peppermint sticks sticking out of their coffee mugs when Jon spotted Brendon.  Brendon smiled tentatively at him.  He and Jon still weren’t back to normal, but Jon hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised when Brendon had asked him to come over for Christmas, which was probably because he knew neither Brendon nor his grandmother would let him be alone on Christmas.

     “Morning, Bren, we thought you were going to sleep the day away,” Jon said setting down his cup to pour Brendon a cup of hot chocolate. It was a tradition to have hot chocolate and peppermint on Christmas day, according to Brendon’s grandmother.  He leaned down to kiss his grandmother on the cheek.

     “Merry Christmas, Grams.” 

     She smiled up at him, “I can’t have you sleeping in all day.  Today is the last day I’ll have you all to myself before you leave,” she said patting his hand which rested on her shoulder.

     “I’ll be here tomorrow, too,” Brendon reminded her, taking the mug Jon offered him with a nod.

     “Yes, but I know you.  You haven’t even begun to pack, so you’ll be running around tomorrow trying to get ready to leave.  Then you’re gone until school starts,” she groaned, and Brendon forced out a laugh.  Yes, Pete had extended their little vacation now that he was on good terms with everyone (read:  Patrick), which meant Brendon was stuck in a house with four couples, four boys with unrequited feelings running rampant, and one horrid Ryan Ross.  Brendon wasn’t sure if it could get any worse.

     “Believe me, I’ll miss Chicago more than you know,” he said sipping his hot chocolate as soon as Jon set it in front of him.  Jon’s phone began ringing from his pajama pocket, and Jon reached for it quickly, his face unchanging at the caller ID.  Brendon had noticed the odd amount of phone calls coming through to Jon’s phone in the past month, but he’d said nothing.  Jon would excuse himself and be back moments later, no difference in his demeanor, and Brendon just assumed it was work needing him to pick up shifts during the holidays. That or it was his _other_ friends.

     “Hey, I have to take this.  Be right back,” he said as he left the room, and Brendon helped himself to a cookie off the kitchen counter before joining his grandmother at the dining table.

     “Aren’t you excited about your trip, sweetheart?”  Brendon glanced up at his grandmother and shook his head.  There was no use in lying.  She frowned, “why?”

     “Because I have to deal with four couples all giggly over each other, Jon and Spencer have some sort of weird dancing around one another thing going on, and Pete and Patrick have so much tension between them that even I want to jump someone’s bones when I’m around them,” he paused as his grandmother laughed at his bluntness, happy he could tell her anything, “and then, you know, Ryan, who I hate.”

     “Ah, yes, Ryan,” she said staring into her own mug.  Brendon was about to ask her what she meant by that when Jon came back in.

     “Alright, let’s do presents.  Grams is right, you’ll be running around all day tomorrow packing, and I’ll most likely get roped into helping.  So, I’m going to head out in a couple hours to pack myself.”    Brendon tried to ignore the inkling he had that Jon was leaving to see his new (or, well, old) friends under the guise of packing.  Ever since Halloween, Jon had been dividing his time between Brendon, Ryan and Spencer, school, and his jobs, and Brendon wondered when Jon slept.

     “Yes, presents,” Grams said pushing away from the table.  She set her mug into the sink and looped an arm around Jon’s, “now, Jon, I know you always say you don’t want anything, but Brendon and I got you something anyway,” she said as she and Jon left the kitchen.  Brendon sighed heavily and looked into his mug and not even the peppermint stick and tiny marshmallows floating on top made him feel better.  Not only did he not see Jon as often, but he knew he was keeping something from him.  He left his mug sitting on the dining table and joined Jon and his grandmother around the tree in the living room.  He tried his best to smile and have a good time while he could because in less than two days’ time, he was going to be stuck in a car with his worst nightmare.

\---

     Pete was vibrating with excitement by the time Patrick made his way over.  Mr. and Mrs. Wentz had taken to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast after exchanging gifts, and Pete had made out well, as he always did. His parents had never spared an expense when it came to him.  Before Patrick even had a chance to knock, Pete had thrown open the door and pulled the other boy inside.

     “Merry Christmas, Trick!  Come open your present!”  Patrick pulled out of Pete’s grip, and the two small gifts he held teetered in his hands.

     “No, Pete!  We said we weren’t buying each other anything!”  Patrick looked upset, but Pete was so excited about his gift to Patrick that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

     “You know me better than that,” Pete chided him, taking off towards the living room.  Patrick scanned the room, taking in the enormous tree, piles of gifts and Hemingway lying in a mound of wrapping paper in front of the window.  Patrick always forgot just how much money the Wentz family actually had until he saw things like that.  Pete had never been one to wave his money around, and it helped that his parents made sure he was grateful for everything he had. 

     Pete flopped down on the floor and maneuvered around his own gifts before pulling out a long box.  Patrick could tell Pete had wrapped it himself because it looked like it had just been rolled on paper and had a bow slapped to the center of it.  Pete grinned brightly at him as Patrick sat down as well, and he pushed the gift to sit in front of Patrick, moving to sit across from him.

     “I’ve wanted to get this for you for a long time, but this year I finally saved enough,” he said, reminding Patrick once again of how independent and humble Pete was about his parents’ money.  Patrick smiled at him, but still felt like an ass for not getting Pete anything.  He pulled at the metallic blue paper and revealed the plain brown cardboard box.  Pete was thrumming from anticipation in front of him as he pried open the box and pulled out a sleek black guitar case.  Patrick couldn’t believe Pete had been so generous with him whereas Patrick hadn’t gotten him a damn thing, really believing Pete when he said they shouldn’t buy each other anything.

     “Open it!” Pete urged him along, but Patrick held out, not wanting to see what was probably an expensive guitar that he didn’t deserve.

     “Pete, I can’t take this.  I didn’t get you anything…”

     “Please, just, open it.”  Patrick sighed once more and flipped open the case.  It really was a beautiful guitar, all dark wood and new strings.  Patrick stroked the side of the glossy guitar, letting his fingers linger on the fret board.

     “Pete,” he looked up to see Pete watching him nervously, waiting for his reaction, “it’s – I love it.  I can’t – it’s so much, too much, but I love it,” Patrick pushed the gift to the side and moved to his knees, leaning over to wrap his arms around Pete, “thank you.”  Pete squeezed him tightly as he buried his face into Patrick’s collar.

     “Boys!”  Patrick pulled away slowly from Pete as Mrs. Wentz came into the living room.  “Patrick, I guess you liked Pete’s gift.  He’s been obsessing about getting it for you for ages,” she smiled at him, wiping her hands on a towel hanging on her apron, “don’t forget the ones by the fireplace.  They’re from Peter and I,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, “now come get some breakfast.”  Patrick gathered the two gifts his own parents had gotten for Pete and handed them over.  Pete placed them next to the more extravagant ones from Pete’s parents, and Patrick thought they looked ridiculous next to the oversized gifts, but Pete shook one, saying, “man, your parents give the best presents.  I’m excited.”  Patrick felt himself relax immediately, thanking Pete silently for having the right words.

     “Come on, I’m starved,” Pete called, leaving him behind on his way to the kitchen.  Patrick looked back at the brand new acoustic guitar and shook his head because, of course, Pete had to do something like that as a sweeping gesture; he couldn’t help himself.  Patrick could tell the unsettling feeling of wanting his best friend was back with a vengeance.  After well over a month of having his normal relationship back, Patrick had hoped it’d been a fluke.  However, knowing that Pete had saved and saved to get him something he’d known Patrick would love…  Patrick forced himself to walk into the kitchen and act normal.  Pete smiled at him through a mouthful of eggs, and Patrick felt the affection in him well up.  He took a seat in front of Pete and felt the other boy’s foot nudge his leg fondly, and it made Patrick want to lay Pete over the table.

     Obviously, it posed a problem for Patrick.

\---

     “Ryan has been a total bitch lately,” he said in between kisses.

     “I think Brendon’s catching on,” the other boy said, and Spencer grinned against Jon’s mouth as they made out in Spencer’s room.

     “They’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he said licking over Jon’s bottom lip.  Jon mumbled an agreement, getting lost in the lazy patterns Spencer’s tongue drew on the roof of his mouth.

     “What are we going to do while we’re in Michigan?” Jon asked breaking away momentarily as Spencer slid his leg over to slip between Jon’s and rested his head on Jon’s chest.

     “I don’t know,” he shrugged as Jon’s hand found its way through his hair, “but we’re definitely not putting this on hold for two weeks.”  Jon’s chest rumbled under Spencer’s head as he laughed.  He kissed Spencer’s hair and said, “no, definitely not.”

     “I don’t care what sort of major bitch fit I have to deal with if Ryan finds out, I’m making out with my boyfriend.  He can suck it up,” Spencer said, sliding a hand up Jon’s arm.

     “Boyfriend?” Jon asked.  They hadn’t put any labels on the whole thing yet, as per Spencer’s request, so it surprised Jon that he’d used the term so loosely.  The hand on his arm stilled.

     “Yeah,” Spencer said lifting his head, “boyfriend?” He hadn’t meant for it to be a question, but Jon answered him anyway.

     “Boyfriend,” he said holding the back of Spencer’s neck until their lips met. 

     Spencer pulled away long enough to tease Jon, “you _so_ wanted to be my boyfriend,” before kissing him once more, and Jon didn’t bother responding because it was true.  He’d been waiting a long time for Spencer Smith.

\---

     Okay, maybe Jon and Grams were right.  Brendon did put off packing until the next day, not because he was procrastinating, really, but because Brendon knew that whatever holiday spirit he had maintained would completely diminish the second he started packing for the stupid trip to the stupid cabin with stupid Ryan Ross.  He tossed another pair of jeans into his bag and huffed in annoyance when the jeans fell over the edge of the bag and onto the floor.  As he leaned to grab them, he smacked his head loudly on his bedside table.

     “Oh, fuck me,” he whined, grabbing the side of his head.  Then, to make things worse, his phone began ringing shrilly from the bed, “Fucking why?”  He pushed himself off the floor and onto his bed. 

     “What!” he said angrily.

     “Bad mood, Bden?”  It was Pete.

     “You could say that,” he sighed into the phone, “What’s up?”

     “I just wanted to make sure you’re still bringing Ryan and Spencer with you and Jon.” Brendon’s headache increased.

     “Yeah, I am.”  Pete chuckled on the other end.  _What the fuck was so funny_ , Brendon thought viciously.

     “Good, so, Patrick and I are heading up early, around six, and Gabe and William are coming up at nine with everyone else.  What time do you think you’ll get out of here?” Brendon lay back on his pillow and pressed a hand to his now aching forehead.

     “As early as possible.”  And Pete laughed again.

     “Try not to kill Ross on the way here,” Pete said, and Brendon could hear Patrick talking loudly in the background.

     “Listen B, we’re going to have a good time,” he said, “no worries.  I got to go.  See you tomorrow!”  Brendon groaned and threw his phone down next to him.  Why was it that everyone thought the feud between he and Ryan was funny now?  Brendon assumed it was because it had lost its edge.  He and Ryan hadn’t thrown any punches in well over a month and a half (ever since stupid Jon decided to be friends with stupid Ryan again), which was the longest Brendon had gone without beating the hell out of the other boy.  He remembered the first fight he and Ryan had ever had. It had been mean and bloody, and it had blindsided Brendon.

**December 2009**

     Brendon hugged his books closer to his chest as he tried to ignore the jeering from the other students.  He could feel the red blush spreading from his face to neck, and he ducked into the nearest boys’ bathroom.  He slid into the back stall, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the edge of the toilet.  He could already feel himself beginning to cry, and he cursed himself for letting them get to him.  He knew he must have made quite the spectacle with his wet, sunken in eyes, nerdy glasses, even more nerdy braces, and wrinkled clothes.  He was tired and achy and sad, and he didn’t think he’d gotten more than an hour’s sleep over the last couple days, ever since the party…  He heard the sob come from his own mouth, but it sounded so foreign and wild, like an animal.

 

     He buried his face into his hands, ignoring the way his glasses pressed sharply against the bridge of his nose, and allowed himself to cry in the empty bathroom.  Or, at least empty until he heard the door open, and Brendon looked through the crack of his stall, drawing his feet up off the ground.  He could see Pete Wentz pulling his backpack off, but the other person was out of Brendon’s limited sight.  He sniffed as quietly as he could and listened in on Pete and Mystery Kid’s conversation.

     “They kicked you out?  Man, that’s – that’s shitty.  If you need a place to stay or whatever, you can always crash with me.”  The water turned on, distorting the other boy’s voice enough that Brendon couldn’t tell who it was.

     “You think he said something?  I don’t think he would do that, but… I don’t really know him,” Pete said cautiously.  Whoever the other person was must have been a good friend of Pete’s, Brendon thought, because if he had learned anything about Pete in the short time he’d been in Chicago, it was that nobody, not even the upperclassmen, messed with Pete, so he was never careful of what he said unless it was to someone he cared for.  Brendon wondered briefly if it was the boy attached to Pete’s hip at the party, Patrick or something, but upon hearing the monotone voice, Brendon knew exactly who it was.

     “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”  Brendon wished desperately that he’d just gone straight to class, instead of getting stuck in the bathroom with Ryan.  Ryan was – he was awful, mean, hideous…  Brendon couldn’t think of a word horrible enough.  He half listened to the rest of their conversation, stewing about Ryan’s lack of humanity and all that when one of his feet slid out from under him and hit the ground hard.

     “Who’s that?” Pete called out, and Brendon supposed he couldn’t very well hide anymore.  He gathered his things, flipped the lock, took a deep breath and pushed the door open.  Pete looked surprised to see him, but Ryan just tightened his jaw, fuming.

     “What the hell are you doing?  Spying on me?  What is wrong with you?”  Brendon wanted to back down, and every part of him was saying run away, but Ryan just continued, “what?  Didn’t get enough at the party?” He smirked.  Brendon positively growled at that, and he threw his books down on the hard tiled floor, and Ryan had the audacity to laugh.

     “What are you going to do, hit me?  Go on, I dare you,” Ryan glanced at Pete, who didn’t seem to find the exchange as funny as Ryan did.  Brendon shook his head and muttered, “not worth it,” under his breath.  He leaned down, grabbed his books and started towards the door.  He had his hand on the handle, pulling it towards him when Ryan shoved him out, sending him and his things sprawling into the hallway.  Brendon reached out for his glasses and flipped over to his back.  Ryan was still laughing from the doorway when Brendon pushed himself to his feet. 

     “Come, on! Do it!” Ryan shouted at him.  Pete was grabbing Ryan’s arm, fruitlessly trying to stop him, but he shrugged him off and moved toward Brendon.  He raised his fist, but Brendon was faster, landing a punch to Ryan’s jaw.  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a thrill at Ryan’s skin under his hand, no matter how it occurred.   Ryan stumbled back and had Brendon been watching the fight, he may have laughed at two skeleton-looking boys attempting to take each other down.  Ryan rushed him, Brendon’s head slammed into the lockers behind him, and Pete was shouting something at them, but Brendon couldn’t hear him over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.  They rolled around the hallway, hitting, pulling, and kicking anytime they had a chance.  Brendon could feel the blood pouring from his forehead and lip as well as the numerous bruises he knew where going to show up, and Ryan’s eye was already bruising and swelling to Brendon’s satisfaction.

     “Hey, stop!”  Brendon could hear shouting and suddenly his English teacher was holding him back while Pete grabbed onto Ryan.

     “Principal’s office, now,” the teacher said angrily as he pushed Brendon down the hall.  Brendon was still livid and he wanted nothing more than to have Ryan under his hands again.  He realized it was wrong, but he still wanted Ryan, and if beating the shit out of him was the only Brendon could touch him, then so be it.  Ryan was trudging behind them and the teacher kept a close eye on him in case he decided to be brave and ambush Brendon.   The teacher babbled on about how fighting is wrong, not a way to solve a conflict, and blah blah blah.  Brendon dared a look at Ryan and was surprised to find him staring back.

     “I hate you,” Ryan mouthed silently with a twisted smile.  Brendon turned his head away quickly, staring straight ahead as the teacher ushered them into the waiting room of the principal’s office.  Of all the punches and kicks thrown, Brendon thought it was Ryan’s words that stung the most.  Ryan collapsed into a seat near the door and Brendon took the one two seats away.  He watched his knee bounce rapidly, nervous energy his Gram said, as he waited for his punishment.  The teacher left them alone with the busy receptionist in order to speak with the principal himself.

     “If you touch me again -.”  Ryan started.

     “You’ll do what?”  Brendon surprised himself at his bold words, and Ryan glared at him as if willing him to burst into flames.

     “I’ll do worse than I did today.  I don’t want your hands on me ever again.  I hate you,” Ryan spat.  There it was again - _hate_.  Brendon curled his hands in the fabric of his baggy jeans. 

     “Believe me, if there was a way to beat the shit out of you without touching you, I would make it happen,” Brendon retaliated, but Ryan just laughed causing Brendon to get even angrier.

     “It’s funny.  A couple days ago you were begging me to touch you,” Ryan smirked once more.  Brendon ignored the part of himself that wanted to curl into a ball and hide and allowed himself to take out all his pain on Ryan.

     “Please, did you actually believe that virgin shit?  I took down boys a lot prettier than you,” he said, and he had no fucking idea where he was coming up with it, but he knew that he couldn’t let Ryan see how upset he was. “Don’t flatter yourself.  It was supposed to be a fun fuck,” Brendon almost cringed at the rarely used curse word leaving his mouth, “but you screwed it up.  I’m over it.”  Okay, so Brendon was a huge liar, like, a monumental liar.  He was a virgin (he was fifteen for Christ’s sake), he hadn’t ‘taken anyone down’, and Ryan wasn’t supposed to be a fun fuck.  He was supposed to be – well, Brendon still wasn’t really sure. 

     Ryan must have bought some part of Brendon’s lie because he hesitated before calling Brendon out, “bullshit.  You reeked of the kind of desperation you only find in virgins.  You wanted it bad, B.”  Brendon leaped over the chairs in between them.  He could vaguely hear the receptionist yelling, but Brendon had Ryan on the ground pinned under him and couldn’t care less.  The teacher was on him again, pulling him roughly back.

     “Stay away from me!”  Ryan shouted at him from the ground, and Brendon struggled against his restrainer’s arms.

     “Go to hell,” Brendon said coldly.

     “That’s enough!  You’ll be lucky if you’re not expelled for this.  Ross, get in there.”  Ryan pushed himself off the ground and skirted around Brendon to get to the principal’s office.

     Brendon let his teacher push him into his seat again, “sit down and don’t move.”  He left Brendon again, joining Ryan and the principal.  The cut on Brendon’s eyebrow stung and blood ran into the corner of his eye.  He’d never felt more alive in his life than when he and Ryan had been in bed, but the fight had come close.  Brendon waited patiently for his turn in the office, and when Ryan came out, Brendon watched him, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement that never came.  He felt oddly deflated, but he knew that he couldn’t show too much emotion, so he kept his face neutral before heading into the office.

**December 2012**

   Ryan was freaking out.

     The idea of riding with Brendon, Jon, and Spencer hadn’t exactly settled in until it was time to go through with it.  He didn’t have Spencer on his side in the car (as he and Jon were going to be all lovey-dovey with each other, but he’d deal with that another time), which meant that he was going to be forced into talking to Brendon or at least treating him civilly.  If Ryan were honest with himself, he knew Brendon wasn’t a bad guy (at least not to anyone else), and he was actually fun to talk with, according to everyone else.  However, in Ryan’s case, Brendon was a complete ass with nothing of value to say.

     Lately, since he and Jon had made up for the most part, Brendon had become even more intolerable, but Ryan found himself not rising to the bait like he used to.  His heart wasn’t in the fight anymore, it seemed, which only made Brendon come at him twice as hard.  Ryan threw his ugly green duffle on the bed and proceeded to fill it with random clothes, toiletries, and miscellaneous items, without care.  Spencer always got onto him about his shitty packing methods, but Ryan just put it down to his “artistic” flair.  Pete was messy as hell, and he’d told Ryan once that geniuses don’t have time to be clean; they’re too busy being brilliant, but Spencer had thought it was complete bullshit.

      Ryan picked up his phone to call Spencer and was not surprised when the other boy didn’t answer.  It was four in the morning after all.  Ryan groaned and laid back on his bed next the duffle.  He hadn’t been able to sleep at all, and he’d left his packing until last minute, which was not surprising.  He needed something to take his mind off of everything and packing had been the only thing left to do.  He closed his eyes and hoped to get some sleep in the next hour or so (because fucking Brendon wanted to leave so early), but his phone began vibrating next to his head on the pillow.  Ryan automatically press the ‘read’ button to view the message he assumed was from Spencer.  It wasn’t.

 _I thought you and Brendon had some sort of truce thing going on._    It was from Pete, and Ryan momentarily wished he’d never told Pete about the truce with Brendon.  It hadn’t lasted long given Brendon’s dickish attitude toward him.

     _B is an ass_ , was all Ryan answered with.

    _Try to be civil.  Don’t ruin the trip for everyone with your incessant fighting_. Ryan wished he and Pete were face to face so he could flip him off. It wasn’t his fault Brendon didn’t know how to keep up with the ceasefire.

     _Don’t ruin the trip for everyone by being a dick_ , Ryan retaliated.

     _Smart ass.  Just do me a favor and attempt to not kill each other.  I have to go.  I think I just woke Patrick up.  He’ll be pissed._   Ryan snorted.  He could see Pete rummaging around his room loudly, Patrick waking up, shouting at him for being awake, and Pete cringing and apologizing.  The thought lightened his mood enough for him to finish packing.   If he stayed away from Brendon, maybe the vacation wouldn’t be so bad.

\---

     When Spencer woke up, he could tell it was early by the limited light streaming through the windows.  He tried to pinpoint what it was that had woken him up at such an ungodly hour and found that Jon was hovering over his bed, lips pressed to his forehead.

     “Hey,” Jon whispered.  Spencer closed his eyes, smiling and met Jon in a kiss.

     “Hi,” he said, voice gruff from sleep, “what are you doing here?”  Jon maneuvered himself into the bed next to Spencer.

     “It’s six and Brendon wants to leave soon.  I wanted to spend some time with you before we go.”  Spencer nodded, nuzzling into Jon’s side.

     “Did you call?”

     “No, that had to be Ryan.”

     “Jesus,” Spencer sighed, “he’s stressing over this big time.”  Jon laughed and reached to the nightstand for Spencer’s phone, which he silenced, just in case Ryan tried to call again.

     “I’m stressed myself,” Spencer continued, “we’re not going to be able to hide this from them for much longer.”  Jon carded his fingers through Spencer’s hair.

     “I thought you didn’t care if Ryan found out.”

     “I lied.”  Jon sighed next to him, but Spencer couldn’t be bothered, burrowing further into Jon’s side.

     “How bad could telling them be?”  Spencer laughed.

     “Are you fucking kidding me?” Spencer murmured into Jon’s neck, “What are we going to say? ‘Oh, hey Ryan, I just thought you should know that I’m in a relationship with that guy that’s best friends with Brendon.  You know Brendon, the one you despise who also holds you in contempt?’  I’m sure that will go over well.”

     “Maybe it will,” Jon provided positively, “maybe they’ll decide our happiness is more important than this ridiculous fight, which, by the way, _is_ absolute shit.  Ryan knows Brendon didn’t out him, and Brendon knows Ryan didn’t humiliate him.  They’re acting like children.”  Spencer nodded fondly at him.

     “Yeah, well, Ryan is a stubborn bitch, just like Brendon.”  They sat in silence for a while before Jon spoke again, “I think the sexual tension is getting to them.”  Spencer burst out laughing, again.

     “There is _no_ sexual tension,” Spencer said when he finally calmed down, “Ryan, from what I know, gets it pretty regularly when he wants.  I’m sure Brendon doesn’t have any trouble either.”  Jon shook his head.

     “Only one guy, about a year ago – at least, that’s the only one I know of.”

     “I doubt it.  Not to make you uncomfortable, but Brendon is entirely too good looking not to get laid all the time.”  Jon looked at Spencer in surprise, his face easier to make out the more the sun made its appearance.

     “You think he’s hot?”  Spencer smiled again, nodding.

     “Don’t worry, Ryan may not like it if you and I date, but he’d absolutely murder me if Brendon and I dated,” Spencer told him, and Jon considered it, supposing it was true.

     “Yeah, but that’s because Ryan wants him, not because he hates Brendon.”  Spencer shrugged nonchalantly.  The sun continued rising and Spencer flipped his back to him and the window, so Jon took the opportunity to mold himself against Spencer.

     “I think he does, and I think Brendon feels the same,” Jon said eventually after Spencer didn’t reply.  It took Spencer a moment to remember what Jon was talking about, but before he could answer Jon had started again, “I would bet they do.”  Spencer thought about it – a bet could prove to be interesting.

     “What’s the bet?”  Spencer asked, his back still flush against Jon’s chest.  It took Jon a minute to respond before he said, “If I win, and Ryan and Brendon actually do want each other,” he lowered his voice as if someone might overhear, “you let me have you.”  Spencer frowned.

     “What the fuck does have me mean?  You already do.  What -.”  Jon laughed at Spencer’s sputtering.

     “I mean, let me fuck you,” Jon clarified, and Spencer froze, glad Jon couldn’t see his face.  He wasn’t a virgin, unfortunately.  He’d given that away to some boy named Sam when he was sixteen at the hotel their families were staying in over summer vacation.  Sam had been cute and funny and the first guy to really look Spencer’s way.  So, they had sex a couple times and Spencer actually questioned his sexuality all over again because it was so bad.  Somehow, though, he knew Jon would be a different story.

     “I mean, not if you don’t want to.  We’ve only been together a month.  We don’t have to do anythi -.”  Jon was backing up at Spencer’s lack of reaction.

     “How is that fair?” Spencer asked him.

     “What?”

    “The bet.  If you win you get to fuck me, but what about me?”  Jon grabbed Spencer’s shoulder and pushed it down to meet the bed.  When he could finally see Spencer’s face, Jon relaxed at the smirk Spencer gave him.

     “Well, what do you want, then?”

     “If you win, I’ll let you,” Jon had to refrain from a victory dance, “and if I win, I get to fuck you.”  Jon laughed and nodded.

     “That seems fair. It’s a deal,” he said and kissed the other boy.  Jon had this bet in the bag, and he hoped Spencer didn’t mind if he played dirty.

\---

     William huffed in the doorway of Gabe’s bedroom as he watched the thin boy dig into his closet and throw random items into the open suitcase on his bed.  They were supposed to be on their way to the cabin already, but Gabe had put off packing until last minute.  He threw a hoodie into his suitcase and spun around to look at William.

     “Don’t sigh at me.  I’m done packing now, so we can go,” he said zipping the bag and pulling it off the bed.  He went to brush by William, but the boy grabbed his hand and took the bag.

     “I’m sorry.  Let’s not fight, okay? I’d wait forever,” William said dramatically. Gabe rolled his eyes and laid a hard but fast kiss against William’s lips.  He grinned at him and pulled Gabe and his suitcase from the room.

     “Just how big is this cabin?”  Gabe asked as William shoved his suitcase into the back of his car.  Gabe rocked back and forth in his thick hoodie in an attempt to stay warm against the snow.  William closed the lid on his trunk, shrugging, “bigger than my family’s.  I’ve only been there once, but it was massive.  Joe, Andy, Patrick, Pete, Travis, and I went up there and we each had our own room if that tells you anything.  Of course, Pete and Patrick usually ended up sharing.”  Gabe laughed as he and William got into the car and started it.

     “I’m not surprised,” he said, pressing his hands against the warm air coming out of the air vents.

     “You have no evil plans, then?” William asked, pulling out of Gabe’s driveway.  Gabe turned the radio on, “of course, I do.”  William waited, but Gabe never elaborated.  Instead he said, “how is everyone else getting there?  Are we meeting up with them or what?”

     “Um, I know Pete and Patrick are driving up together.  Travis, Joe and Andy are coming in Andy’s car, and the girls are taking Hayley’s car.  I think Brendon and Jon are still riding with Spencer and Ryan… I don’t know.  Pete said he and Patrick were headed up early so he could get the keys and stuff, but we’re just supposed to meet them there.”  Gabe nodded and looked out the window at the snow blurring by as William sped through town.  William reached out to take Gabe’s hand in his.

     “Thank you,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.  Gabe smirked lightly and watched the other boy.

     “For what?” he asked. 

     William kissed Gabe’s hand, saying, “for not being one of these stubborn idiots who can’t just say they love someone.”

     “Oh, is that all?”  William grinned.

     “I love you,” Gabe said.

     “Ditto.”

\---

     So this was it.  The day of Brendon’s own personal apocalypse.  He watched as the devil himself got out of the passenger seat of Spencer’s car.  Brendon looked to Jon for reassurance, but was disappointed to find that the other boy was already greeting the source of all evil.  He mocked the three laughing boys while they pulled bags from the back of Spencer’s little blue car.  Why had he agreed to this?  Oh right, he wanted Jon to be happy… damn Jon.

     But Brendon couldn’t help but notice the new spring in Jon’s step.  He had always been a happy, laid back kind of guy, but lately he’d been even more excitable.  Brendon watched him as he tugged Spencer’s bag out of the boy’s hands, and a sly smile slid across Spencer’s face.  He didn’t allow his eyes to stray to Ryan for the simple fact that he knew they would get stuck there.  Ryan closed up Spencer’s trunk and started towards Brendon, but Brendon found the way Jon brushed his hand against Spencer’s back more interesting.

     Ryan looked over his shoulder at his obvious friend’s flirting, and he wondered if Brendon had noticed that Jon and Spencer were messing around behind their backs.  Ryan had known for about a week.  He’d invited Spencer and Jon over for a movie night at his house and left them alone in the living room to make popcorn.  He’d walked in on Jon laying Spencer over the side of the couch in a kiss, but thankfully they hadn’t seen him.  He’d spent a good fifteen minutes in the kitchen, pacing, trying not to storm into the living room and demand an explanation.  He still hadn’t told Spencer he knew, and he didn’t plan on it until they were back from Michigan.

    “Hey, dumbass,” Brendon called out to Ryan without looking at him, “are you going to put your bags into the back or are you going to stand there like a moron all day?”  Ryan grit his teeth and moved to stand next to Brendon, shoving his bag into the back of the hideous van.  As he backed away, he connected with Brendon’s solid chest.

     “Watch it,” he hissed moving away from Ryan quickly.

     “Oh, yes, please, do start fighting now.  I can’t imagine having a peaceful ride for the next few hours,” Spencer’s sarcasm cut the tension as he and Jon made a joint effort to squeeze his bag into the trunk. Brendon huffed out a fake laugh, but there was no real harm behind it.  Ever since Spencer had found him at Pete’s and told him to suck it up, Brendon had a bit more respect for him. That and he made Jon happy, obviously, so Brendon was going to deal.  He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, digging for his keys.

     “Shall we?” Brendon said moving to the driver’s side of the van.  Jon clapped a hand on his shoulder and instead of getting into the passenger seat like Brendon expected, Jon jumped into the backseat.

     “Ry, sit with me,” Jon called out and Ryan scrambled to get into the backseat.  Of course, he didn’t want to sit with Brendon, and if Jon was sitting in the backseat, Ryan would throw Spencer under the bus, so he wouldn’t have to sit with Brendon.  Spencer shot Jon a look that said, ‘what the hell are you doing?’, but he joined Brendon in the front seats of the van without a word.  Brendon was thoroughly confused.  He thought Jon liked Spencer, but there he was buddy-buddy in the backseat with Ryan.  Brendon may have slammed his door a little harder than he meant to.

     “So, Bren,” Spencer said, putting emphasis on Brendon’s nickname, “what kind of music do you like?”  Jon and Ryan shared identical looks of confusion, but Brendon brushed Spencer’s odd behavior off.  Like he’d said, Spencer was okay for the most part in his book.

     “My CD case is under the seat,” he said, pulling out of the driveway, “I just got the new Blink 182.  It’s pretty good.”  Spencer pulled the case out from under his seat and began to flip through the massive suitcase looking holder.

     “Jesus, how many CDs do you have?”  Jon snorted in the back.

     “Please, that’s just the one he keeps in the car.  He’s got another one at home and one at my place.  I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jon commented on Brendon’s collection, and Ryan had to admit it was impressive.  He thought he had more music hanging around his house than anyone, but Brendon seemed to prove him wrong.

     “These are my favorites, though,” Brendon defended himself. 

     “You have three hundred favorites?” Spencer asked him and Brendon shrugged.  Spencer skipped to the back, passing not only rock music but classical, hip-hop, jazz, soul, soundtracks and so on, before finding the Blink 182 CD.  He ejected Brendon’s current CD (“Katy Perry?  Really, Brendon?”), and popped the new CD in.  They were a few songs in when Jon spoke.  In retrospect, Spencer knew he could have said no.  Hell, he could have leaped over the backseat and killed Jon for even uttering the next few words. 

     “So, Ry, what do you think about bunking with me?”  Spencer had whiplash from spinning his head so quickly.  Brendon’s hands jerked on the wheel causing them to swerve into the other lane, but Ryan just looked surprised.

     “Uh, well, Spencer -.” 

     “Spencer’s cool with it.  Right, Spence?”  Spencer gaped at Jon like a fish before stuttering out, “sure.”  Ryan looked skeptical, but didn’t call him out.

     “Um, alright.  Yeah, sounds good,” Ryan told Jon whose smile rivaled the Cheshire cat’s from Alice in Wonderland.  Spencer finally gathered enough composure to turn back around in his seat and look at Brendon.  He’d righted the car almost immediately after swerving, but his knuckles were white on the wheel and his jaw was set.  Spencer knew the feeling, but he persevered, reaching out hesitantly and clapping a hand on Brendon’s shoulder.

     Brendon shot him a look that Spencer didn’t really understand but he assumed meant ‘thanks’.

     “We’ll have a good time,” Spencer said, giving Jon a taste of his own medicine, “won’t we Bden?”  Brendon nodded, laughing a little.

     “Sure, Spence,” Brendon joked.  Jon caught Spencer’s eye and winked at him happily.

      Spencer smiled when Ryan shoved his bony knees into the back of his seat.


	8. Chapter 8

**December 2012**

 Patrick was not checking Pete out.  He wasn’t – honestly, and if his eyes had traveled south when Pete got out of the car to get the keys from Jeremy at the gate, it was because his bright yellow underwear was sticking out of the top of his jeans.  Anyone would have noticed, he reasoned.  Pete was explaining that there were going to be four more cars coming, and Patrick remained in the car and waved to Jeremy.  He’d been coming up to the Wentz’s cabin since he was a kid, so he knew just about everyone, and Jeremy gave him a wave back and a wink.  Patrick chose to ignore the latter.

     Pete jumped back into the car, smiling, and tossed the keys to Patrick.  Jeremy opened the gate for them and Pete’s tiny car sped through the entrance.  They drove for another ten minutes at a nearly vertical incline before reaching the cabin.  No matter how many times Patrick saw it, he was still in complete awe of the massive wooden house.  Pete pulled through the rounded driveway and around to the back of the cabin where the garage sat as Patrick looked out of his window at the large lake. Pete pulled the car into the one of the spots in the garage, making sure he didn’t hit the canoe leaning against the wall.   It was still as beautiful as he remembered, and while Patrick had been to the cabin more times than he could count, one particular trip was consuming his thoughts.

     It had been the summer between their freshman and sophomore year, and Pete had invited him, Joe and Andy to come with his family on their vacation.  Patrick, who’d been there many times already, was gushing about how big and nice the place was.  When they’d arrived, Joe and Andy decided to go ahead and jump right into the lake, tearing off shirts, shoes and shorts as they went.  Pete was right behind them, but Patrick hung back.  Honestly, he hadn’t wanted to get in the water with the guys.  He still wouldn’t take his shirt off in front of other people, especially not Pete (why, he didn’t know).  Pete’s parents had rushed him off, though, forcing him to join the boys and telling him that they would handle the bags.

     Patrick found the guys swinging on a wispy looking rope hanging from one of the sturdier trees and flinging themselves into the lake.  Joe spotted him first from his spot in the center of the lake and yelled for him to join them, “come on, Patrick! It’s awesome out here.” 

     Pete, swinging from the rope, turned back to see Patrick and grinned as he catapulted himself into the water.  Patrick must have been standing there for a while because before he knew it, Pete was next to him, skinny and dripping wet.

     “Trick, get your ass in the water,” he said, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the thin rope.  Once he had Patrick under the tree, he gripped the hem of Patrick’s shirt and began pulling it off, and Patrick jumped, startled, and moved away from Pete as quickly as he could, heading toward the house.

     “What’s with you?” Pete had asked, ignoring the shouts coming from Joe and Andy.  Patrick shook his head without turning around and sped to the cabin door.  He still remembered how upset he’d been when Pete hadn’t followed him.

      “Trick?  Trick!”  Pete was snapping at him from outside of the car, and Patrick was jolted from his memory.

     “Yeah, sorry,” he said pushing his door open and getting out, and as he did, he looked down at himself and frowned.  Yes, the baby fat from that summer was gone, but he still wasn’t as tiny as Pete or Brendon or William…  Pete was calling for him again, this time from behind the car.

     “Are you alright?  You’re quiet,” Pete said, pulling bags out of the trunk.  Patrick nodded and told Pete he was fine because honestly, he was not in the mood for a pity Patrick party.  Pete didn’t push it, and he was grateful for it.  He could focus on getting his bags out of the car and not his stupid unfounded insecurities.  He pulled his brand new guitar out of the trunk and Pete closed it behind him.

     “So the guys will be here in a couple hours, and I figured we’d stay in tonight and leave any going out for tomorrow,” Pete said as he unlocked the front door.  Patrick said nothing but followed Pete through the foyer, into the living room, and up the stairs.  During all of his panicking, Patrick hadn’t given a thought to how the rooms were going to be divided up.  He knew the couples would bunk together, which left Ryan and Spencer, Brendon and Jon, and – oh, yeah.  Pete led them through the long hallway to the last door on the right or as Patrick remembered it, the master bedroom.  Pete’s mother had always been into interior decorating, and she’d designed each room herself, mainly focused on color.

     The master bedroom was what Pete called the “hospital room” because it was practically devoid of any of the colors found in the other rooms.  It was all white and cream and sheer fabrics.  Romantic is what Mrs. Wentz called it, but Patrick could only see it as his own personal hell in the form of a room equipped with a king size bed.  Pete was already shoving their bags into the corner when Patrick found the courage to walk in. He leaned his guitar case against the wall next to the bathroom and heard Pete flop onto the bed.

     “Oh my god, this bed is even better than I remember,” he said as he patted the left side of the bed, “come on.  Try it out.”  Patrick was nauseous and nervous, which made no sense because he’d shared a bed with Pete thousands of times, but he pushed himself to sit rigidly on the edge of the bed.  Pete huffed out an annoyed breath and reached for Patrick.  He snagged the back of Patrick’s jacket and pulled him back onto the bed, and he took no time burrowing himself into Patrick’s side.

     “Let’s sleep until they get here,” he said, “you’re comfy.”  Patrick knew Pete meant nothing by it, but lately his self-esteem had been making it impossible to brush things off.  He tensed up but didn’t let himself move, but Pete noticed, of course.

     “Hey,” he paused, waiting for Patrick to look at him, “everything is good.”  He pushed a hand over Patrick’s chest, rubbing it in soothing circles, and Patrick wanted sleep to come.  He wanted to escape for a while because being in love with your best friend wasn’t as easy as they made it seem in the movies.  As Pete’s hand slowed on his chest, signaling that he was falling sleep, Patrick began to drift off as well.  Just until everyone gets here, was the last thing he thought.

\---

     “They are so fucking cute.”

      “I know, look at their hands, Christ.”

     “Shh!  You’re going to wake them up!”

     “Could you guys fangirl somewhere else?”  Pete said without opening his eyes.  Hayley, Vicky and Greta stood at the end of the bed, smiling so wide Patrick thought their jaws must ache.  Pete mumbled something against his chest and Patrick looked down at their positions.  Pete was still attached to his side as before, hand on his chest, but Patrick’s arm had found its way around Pete, and his hand lay on top of Pete’s.  It was disgustingly sweet if he did say so himself.

     “Just thought you should know that you have company waiting on you downstairs.  I’d separate before Gabe and William make their way up here.”  That caused Pete and Patrick to pull apart quickly because they did not need the guys seeing how “cute” they were.  It was one thing for them to be constantly attached, but it was another to snuggle together in their sleep.

     “Is Brendon here yet?” Patrick asked taking off his jacket, finally.  He wished he hadn’t slept in it now that he was awake and sweaty.

     “Not when we pulled in.  We took the spot next to in the garage, and I need to make sure Brendon doesn’t run my little car over with his dinosaur when he does get here,” Hayley said as she went to the window.

     “This place is incredible,” Vicky commented, jumping onto the bed between them.  Pete smiled and nodded, “uh, I’ll just give him a call and see if they’re close.”  Patrick waited until Pete was on the phone with Brendon and down the hall before slinging himself back onto the bed, and suddenly he was surrounded by the girls.

     “So, are you together yet?”  Vicky asked from his right, laying her head on his shoulder.

     “Is he good in bed?”  Greta asked from his left, close enough that her hip sat snuggly against his shoulder.

      “Greta!” Hayley scolded her while hovering over Patrick’s legs, straddling his shins, “so, is he?”  Patrick threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

     “Pete and I are just friends.”  The girls backed off of him, slowly and they sighed, annoyed with him.

     “Whatever you say, mister denial.”  Patrick didn’t move again until he was sure he was alone.  It was going to be a long vacation.

\---

     “Why are you rooming with Ryan?” Spencer was finally alone with Jon after hours in a van together. He watched Jon sling his bag onto the bed and felt a surge of unhappiness knowing that Jon would be sharing the bed with Ryan.

     “Because,” he said leaning behind Spencer to close the door, “I’m proving a point.”

     “And that point is?”

     “That Brendon is insanely jealous that I’m rooming with Ryan and he’s not.”  Spencer shook his head.

     “No, all you’re doing is pissing Brendon off.  He wanted to room with you!  Not me or Ryan.  I wanted to room with Ryan, but now you’ve stuck me with Brendon, who is acting like a complete child.”  Jon didn’t let Spencer’s anger deter him.

     “You didn’t want to room with me?”  Spencer wanted to laugh and kiss the smirk off Jon’s face, but he was too angry.

     “You’ve taken this game further than I thought.  I figured you’d be over this whole thing by the time we got here.”  Jon chuckled and settled onto the bed.

     “I could never get over anything that ends in me fucking you.”  Spencer’s neck was hot, but he just narrowed his eyes and glared.

     “I think it’s obvious that I’m the winner, Jon.  Brendon and Ryan are not dating under our noses or anything.  You’ve lost.”  Jon just grinned and propped himself up on the headboard.

     “Believe me when I say that this trip is going to end with one very submissive Spencer Smith.”  Spencer rolled his eyes and opened the door behind him.

   “Keep dreaming, Walker.”  He could still hear Jon laughing as he made his way down the stairs.

\---

     It took about an hour before everyone congregated in the living room.  Most of them, mainly the ones who had never been there, stood awkwardly around the room as if waiting for instruction.  Patrick, however, had plopped down in the center of the couch and Pete loved the way Patrick looked so at home.  Joe and Andy were fighting over who got to sit in the coveted oversized chair that his mother had thought was an eyesore when Peter had brought it in, but while they were distracted, William and Gabe had stolen it, sitting pressed together and smirking.

     “We need food,” Pete called out from the kitchen doorway.

     “And alcohol!”  Joe yelled.  Pete shook his head, “there should be a ton in the cellar.  My parents still come up here for vacation with their friends.”

     “I’ll go,” William said, and Pete was glad he did because he didn't particularly want to go to the store, and William was one of the only ones who knew where it was.  Gabe nodded next to him even though it was a given that if William was going, so was he.

     “Me too.  I need some things,” Joe said and Pete didn’t want him to elaborate.  Joe’s things were weird things.

      “We’re going!” Vicky told them.  Girls went everywhere together, which was something Pete didn’t really understand but whatever; it was more hands to carry bags so Pete wouldn’t have to.  It took them an hour and a half to decide on what to get and when the group left, the list was a full page of paper, back and front, and Pete pulled out a few bills from his wallet that his parents had given him for Christmas. This trip was funded by him, after all.  Brendon offered up his van since it was the only one that would fit everyone plus groceries.

     After they left, Travis and Andy had taken to the garage to fix Joe’s car.  It had apparently been making weird sounds for weeks, a fact that Joe hadn’t bothered to tell them until they were two hours into the trip.  This left Brendon, Jon, Spencer, Ryan, Pete and Patrick alone – this was not good.  Spencer was still trying to figure out whether or not to play Jon’s game.  He was pretty positive that Ryan wasn’t in love with Brendon or anything, but then again, he couldn’t explain Ryan’s odd behavior when it came to Brendon.  Jon was currently crowded up next to Ryan and Pete, and Spencer decided he didn’t like how close Jon was to Ryan.  If he didn't know any better, Spencer would think Jon was trying to make him jealous, not prove a point.

      If jealousy was what Jon wanted, Spencer would show it to him.

     “Hey Bren,” Spencer called to him, “can you give me a hand?”  Brendon looked up at him from his place next to Patrick and nodded, “sure.”  Spencer could feel Jon and Ryan staring.

     “What’s up?”  Brendon asked him.  Spencer held back a gleeful smirk, “in _our_ room.”  Spencer emphasized ‘our’ on purpose, but Brendon didn’t seem to catch on.

     “Yeah, alright.”  Spencer grinned brightly at him and made his way to the stairs, Brendon trailing behind him.  When they made it to the room, Spencer closed the door behind him and Brendon looked at him expectantly.  Spencer hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

     “What is it?”

     “Uh, can you, um -.”

     “You want me to help you make Jon jealous,” Brendon stated more than asked and – Spencer wasn’t expecting that.  Well, if Brendon was going to offer…

     “Not that you need me to,” Brendon continued, “Jon already likes you if you hadn’t noticed.”

     “But he’s rooming with Ryan,” Spencer said quickly and immediately scolded himself, but Brendon shrugged, ignoring his internal debate.

     “Yeah, if I liked someone, I’d want to know everything about them.  Who knows everything about you?”

     “Ryan…”

     “Exactly.  Jon probably just wants to know more about you and Ross can help,” Brendon paused and looked at Spencer, “you’re upset he didn’t want to room with you.”

     “And you’re much more observant than I thought,” Spencer told him and Brendon laughed, and it almost felt like they were friends.

     “Jon wasn’t going to room with you because of me.  If you two roomed together, that would have left me and Ross.  You wouldn’t do that to him would you?  I might actually kill him.”  Spencer shook him head, “you wouldn’t.”  Brendon said nothing but shrugged again.

     “Ryan’s not that bad.  He’s actually kind of great,” Spencer said, but Brendon seemed to ignore him.

     “Listen, I can’t help you make Jon jealous without hurting him, so I don’t think I can do it.  But like I said, he likes you and I’m positive you like him.  You should tell him that,” Brendon said from his spot on the bed.  Spencer walked over to sit next to him, close enough that their knees knocked each other.

     “I do like Jon,” Spencer admitted, “are you okay with that?”

     “If I wasn’t, you would know.  You’re not the worst Jon could do,” Brendon said nonchalantly.  Spencer laughed and hit his leg against Brendon’s.

     “I’m not,” he agreed, “I’ll handle him with care.” Spencer thought it was nice to be able to joke with Brendon without the tension of Ryan hanging over their heads.

     “You better.  I don’t take kindly to people who are mean to Jon.”  Spencer nodded fondly.  He remembered their junior year when the baseball hotshot Andrew Hastings called Jon a faggot for accidentally bumping into him in the locker room.  Brendon had threatened the boy until he had literally backed away.  He’d been out “sick” for the next week.

     “You’re thinking about Andrew Hastings,” Brendon laughed and Spencer burst, “that asshole.”  They were having a good time, laughing and joking, but it ended when Ryan came in.  Ryan was already taking in their close distance, touching knees, smiling faces, and he looked – Spencer couldn’t tell exactly.

     “Spencer,” Ryan croaked out, “can I, uh, can I talk to you?”  Spencer was confused because Ryan’s voice was sad, his body was tense, and his resting bitch face was in full effect.  Ryan could barely handle one emotion without it taking him over let alone multiple ones.  Spencer said yes and stood up from the bed.  He was crossing his fingers that Brendon didn’t say anything, but – Spencer’s luck wasn’t the best.

     “Actually, Spencer and I are busy,” Brendon said grabbing Spencer’s wrist, and Spencer froze. All he could think was, _oh shit._   Ryan, shocking them, said, “Oh, when you’re done then.”  Spencer felt Brendon’s hand drop away from his and looked down to see his reaction.  Brendon was staring at Ryan like he’d been hit, but he recovered quicker than Spencer.

     “Whatever. It wasn’t that important,” Brendon said as he stood up, “we’ll talk later.”  Spencer nodded and watched Ryan move to the side for Brendon to leave, and he found the entire thing to be weird.  Ryan was making nice and Brendon wasn’t urging him on…

     Spencer was suddenly afraid he’d just lost the bet.

\---

     When Ryan left Jon alone with Pete and Patrick, he knew he had to get out fast.  The dramatic tension between them was giving Jon a slight panic attack, so he excused himself to the bathroom and told himself not to run up the stairs. 

     “Fuck.”  Jon heard Brendon from down the hallway, and as he turned the corner at the top of the stairs, he saw Brendon sitting against the last door on the right.  His head lay on top of his arms, balancing on his knees.

     “Bren,” Jon said and Brendon’s head snapped up.  He turned away from Jon to stand up and ran a hand over his face.

     “What’s up?” Brendon asked him, but Jon didn’t buy Brendon’s act.  He never had.

     “What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing,” Brendon rolled his eyes.

     “People don’t cry over nothing.”

     “I’m not fucking crying.  I’m just having a shitty time alright?  I’m stuck here with all the happy couples, Pete and Patrick are seconds away from fucking, and you have joined the Ryan and Spencer show,” he said, getting louder, “I didn’t want to spend my break here.  Ross ruins fucking everything!”

     “Brendon.”  Jon heard Spencer and he _knew_ Ryan was right there with him.  Brendon looked over Jon’s shoulder at Spencer and Ryan, but he didn’t let himself look apologetic.  He’d already been nice to Ryan today and that was enough.

     “What?” 

     “Stop being an asshole,” Jon spoke up.  Brendon looked at him, surprised and then laughed.

    “Right, I forgot, you’re the new sidekick.  Does Ryan know that while you’ve been playing him, you’ve actually been scamming on Spencer?”

      “Stop it, Brendon,” Ryan said, “I’m happy for Jon and Spencer.  They deserve to be happy and if you can’t except that they’re together, you’re more of a fucking dick than I thought.”

     “What are you talking about?  Jon and Spencer haven’t…”  Brendon trailed off, looking at Jon.

     “I was going to tell you, Bren.” 

     “How did you even know?” Spencer asked Ryan.

     “I kind of walked in on you at my house,” Ryan shrugged apologetically, “sorry I didn’t say anything.  I figured you would want to tell me yourself.”  Spencer smiled.

     “So, you’re not mad?”

     “No, I really am happy for you guys.” 

     “Christ,” Brendon breathed, “this is touching and all, but could you explain why you didn’t tell me?”

     “Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” Jon told him honestly, and Brendon scoffed.

     “If tight ass over there can be okay with it, so can I.” 

     “It’s not a competition,” Spencer sighed.  He could not understand why Brendon was acting out just after they’d had a good conversation.

     “The hell it’s not,” Brendon said, “and I’ll be damned if I let you win.”  Ryan remained quiet, which seemed to piss Brendon off even more, “just do me a favor.  Try to stay out of my line of sight for the next few days.”  Ryan cowered behind Spencer as Brendon pushed past them all and went downstairs.  They could hear Pete ask Brendon where he was going and Patrick say, “it’s freezing out there!”  Then the door slammed.

     “Bren’s always been one for the dramatics,” Jon said in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

     It didn’t work.

\---

     An hour after the rest of the group had returned with the groceries, Brendon finally reappeared looking cold and blue.  He’d passed by them without a word and went upstairs, closing himself away in the room he shared with Spencer.  He hadn’t come down even when they’d gathered together for Andy’s vegetarian pizza in the living room and watched _The Lost Boys_.  No one mentioned Brendon after Jon’s short explanation of why he was missing.

     “He’s being an idiot,” was all Jon said, and while he hated saying it about his best friend, he knew it was true.  Jon thought he was even more right about Brendon and Ryan than before because Brendon had disliked a couple of people in the time Jon had known him, but he’d never let anyone get to him the way he let Ryan.  The problem was Brendon was too stubborn to admit to anything.

     Jon had considered coaxing Brendon out of his room, but settled on trying to enjoy his time with his other friends, namely Spencer.  They hadn’t told anyone else that they were together, but Ryan had helped them out by letting Jon sit in between him and Spencer.

     As the night progressed, everyone started to spill into bed.  Travis and Hayley had gone first around eleven, followed by Joe and Vicky and then Andy and Greta.  Sometime after midnight, Gabe had pulled William off the floor, rushing him to their shared room.  Patrick left on his own soon after and told Pete to go ahead and finish the movie.  Ryan dragged himself to his and Jon’s room around one and Pete decided to head up after nodding off a few times.  Jon leaned over to kiss Spencer but found the other boy asleep.  He grinned and shook Spencer awake.

     “Let’s go, pretty boy,” Jon murmured, feeling exhausted all the sudden.  Spencer grumbled something unhappily under his breath, but he pushed himself off the couch anyway.  Jon looped his arm around Spencer’s back and began to climb the stairs with him.  Halfway up, they ran into Brendon, who was carrying a pillow and a throw.  Jon opened his mouth to say something but Brendon just raced past him and turned into the living room.

     “I guess this means I’m rooming alone now,” Spencer rasped, half asleep.  Jon didn’t respond, and instead, he walked Spencer into the room he was supposed to be sharing with Brendon and helped him get under the covers.  Jon snuck into his and Ryan’s room and was surprised to see Ryan was still awake, reading.

     “Hey,” Jon whispered, “so Bren’s sleeping on the couch now, I guess, so I was wondering if – if uhm,” Jon paused, unsure of how to ask.

     “I don’t mind, Jon.  More bed for me,” he said as he rolled to the middle of the bed as if to make his point.  Jon smiled gratefully.

     “Thanks, Ry.  See you in the morning.”  Jon slid back out of the room, closed the door behind him and crossed the hallway to Spencer.  He shucked his jeans and shirt onto the floor and then slipped into the bed behind Spencer.

     “Brendon?”  Spencer mumbled.  Jon wrapped his arm around Spencer’s midsection and pulled him closer.

     “Jon,” Spencer realized and shifted against him.  Jon hated that he didn’t fall asleep immediately because even surrounded by his friends and Spencer, knowing Brendon was sleeping on the couch, shivering under his thin blanket and feeling betrayed made it impossible to sleep.  He wanted to go tell Brendon to suck it up and that it would be okay and that they were still best friends.  Spencer began to snore lightly, and Jon was shaken out of his thoughts.

    But if Brendon wanted to be that way, Jon would let him.

\---

     The next day passed quickly.  Pete had coerced them all into going out ice skating at the rink in town.  Other than Pete and Brendon, none of them were any good.  Brendon had remained on the opposite side of the rink whenever Jon, Spencer and Ryan ventured out onto the ice and, Pete was pulling Greta along, making sure she didn’t hit the ground while Patrick let Hayley skate around with him, holding her hand loosely and listening to her sing along with the music pumping through the speakers.  Ryan was completely awkward and relied on Jon and Spencer to keep him upright.  He watched Brendon a lot, Jon noticed.  It was hard not to, though.  Brendon was effortless, gliding around like he’d been skating for years.

     “Brendon’s really good,” Spencer noted, catching Ryan as he fumbled beside him, “does he do this a lot?”  Jon shook his head and laughed.

     “I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s been on the ice.”  Spencer was shocked and looked back at Brendon who was skating in literal circles around Pete and Greta.

    “Well, he’s just fucking perfect at everything, isn’t he?”  Ryan grumbled and pushed away from Spencer towards the railing.  He pulled himself carefully out of the rink and onto the carpeted area.  Spencer watched him plop down on one of the benches, facing away from the rink. 

     The music playing slowed down into some power ballad Jon was sure only Brendon would know, and he speakers played the announcement for couples’ skating. Spencer began to wobble out of the rink, but Jon snatched his hand before he got too far.

     “They’ll figure it out eventually,” he said.  Spencer looked around at their friends but no one was looking.

     “I guess so,” he sighed and tightened his hold on Jon.  They didn’t get very far before Pete skated past on his own, Greta having escaped him, and he looked at their hands.  Spencer waited for the reaction and was pleased to find Pete grinning.

     “Well, it’s about goddamn time!”  Jon laughed, but ignored Pete’s high five.  Spencer, taking pity on him, returned it.

    “You wear the pants, don’t you?” Pete joked and Jon snorted.

    “Not after I win,” he said and Spencer shot him a harmless glare.

    “What?” Pete asked, confused.

     “Nothing,” Spencer answered him, “thanks for the support, Pete.”  Jon dragged Spencer around the rink, leaving Pete on his own again.  Pete was one of the few people with enough balls to skate by himself during a couples’ skate, and he sang loudly along with the song playing.  Spencer glanced back over to where Ryan sat and found him turned around and watching the rink intently.  He looked around, wondering what could have captured Ryan’s attention and found it quickly.  Just past where Joe and Vicky were bobbing  between various other couples, Brendon was helping a shorter, but still very cute guy around the rink, and the guy was either really good at faking it, or he really was seconds from falling on his ass.

     “Well, fuck.”  Jon followed Spencer’s eye line.

    “What is it?”

     “Brendon is skating with that kid,” Spencer said as though it were obvious, and Jon shrugged.

     “Yeah, so?  I’m not exactly surprised.  You said Brendon was hot, remember?”  Spencer smacked Jon’s chest with his free hand.

     “That’s not what I mean.  Brendon is skating with someone and Ryan looks like he wants them dead,” Spencer elaborated.  Jon looked over to Ryan and smiled slowly, understanding.

     “You’re mad because -.”

     “Because you just won the fucking bet,” Spencer spat.  Jon whooped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone, including Gabe and William.

     “Yes!” Gabe shouted and William laughed as Gabe hazardously began jumping around.  Spencer rolled his eyes at their reaction because it was no surprise that Gabe had seen this coming.  He had that whole cobra thing or whatever, and while Spencer may have thought the snake part was shit, but he wouldn’t deny that Gabe was kind of all-knowing. 

     Brendon was looking back at them, smiling slightly, but his attention was pulled back to his skating partner.  Spencer decided that he didn’t like the kid because now that it had become obvious to him that Ryan still had some weird left-over feelings for Brendon, Spencer couldn’t handle seeing him with someone else.

     “Should we do something?  To get them together?”  Spencer asked Jon.

     “There’s nothing we can do.  They won’t talk to each other.  We can’t lock them up together.  They’d just beat the shit out of each other until someone interfered.  If they get together, it’ll be their own doing,” Jon reasoned as the slow song ended, and Spencer remained silent while the rink refilled with skaters.  He had a problem with doing nothing.

     “We’ll go out,” Spencer started excitedly, ignoring Jon’s laugh, “and we’ll get them plastered.  Then we sic them on each other -.”

     “Sic?”

     “Shut up.  We’ll _sic_ them on each other, and they’ll be so gone that they’ll have no choice but to admit their feelings.” 

     “I hate to break it to you, but this is real life.  There’s no way that would work.  Just leave it alone, Spence,” Jon pleaded, “besides, you have more pressing matters to attend to.”  Spencer raised a brow.

     “I won the bet, remember?  And I’m going to get my prize when you are least expecting it.  So you should look forward to when I jump you, not worry about Ryan and Brendon’s dysfunctional non-relationship.”  Spencer rolled his eyes, but he understood all the same.

     “I want Ryan to be as happy as I am,” he said. 

     “Me too,” Jon responded, “and he will be.  So stop worrying!”  Spencer sighed and looked back over a Ryan.  He wasn’t alone anymore at least.  Patrick had taken to sitting next to him and they seemed to be in deep conversation.

     “Jon?”

     “If what you’re about to say has anything to do with Ryan and/or Brendon, don’t say it.”  Spencer huffed and kissed Jon’s shoulder.  Just because he couldn’t talk about it didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it.

\---

    Brendon officially hated sleeping on the couch.  It didn’t mean that the couch was uncomfortable, but Brendon was a bit of a bitch when it came to sleeping.  He wanted to be in the most comfortable spot available, but it wasn’t an option.  After they’d gone skating the day before, Jon and Spencer had announced to everyone that they were a couple.  They’d all stayed up relatively late, celebrating, but Brendon had snuck off to “his” room.  Upon his arrival, however, he saw that Jon’s bags had been moved in, meaning he and Spencer were sharing, which also meant that Brendon had no place but the couch.

     So he’d done just that, but his back was aching from sleeping there for two nights in a row.  Brendon could hear them all eating lunch in the living room from his place on the back porch.  He’d bundled himself in the thickest coat he’d brought and made a spot on the porch swing.  He knew he was being an overdramatic, antisocial ass, but he couldn’t face anyone.  Not the couples, not Pete, who’d generously invited him, not Jon and Spencer, and especially not Ryan.  He really just wanted to go home, and not to his Chicago home but to his Las Vegas home.  He wanted to crawl into his little bed in his little room and let his mother baby him like she used to.

     He’d considered going home numerous times over the past few years, mostly after the falling out with Ryan, but he knew they wouldn’t take him back.  He’d never pretend to be something he wasn’t just for their sake.  He turned around to peer into the living room and saw them all laughing and talking, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to go in there and have a great time, but at this point, he’d alienated himself enough that slipping into the group quietly wouldn’t happen.

     “Hey Brendon,” Patrick had his head stuck out of the sliding door, keeping his body shielded from the cold snow and wind.

     “What’s up?”

     “We’re going out to dinner and a movie tonight,” he said, “you in?”  Brendon hesitated.  He wanted to go, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

     “I’m going to stay here, actually,” he racked his brain for an excuse, “I’ve got this song I’m working on and I’d like to get it down,” he lied.  Brendon knew music was one of the few things they would all understand, and suddenly Patrick looked excited.

     “Oh, awesome,” he said, “let me know when you’re done.  I’d like to hear it.”  Brendon nodded, smiling.

      “We should do a song together,” Patrick told him and Brendon was all for that.  Patrick was probably the most talented musician Brendon knew of.

    “Yeah, definitely.”  Patrick left him then, content with Brendon’s excuse. Brendon sighed in relief.  He was actually going to get a real break away from everything and everyone.  He glanced at his phone to check the time.  It was already six and the sun was setting quickly behind the naked trees, which meant that soon Brendon would be alone – he thought it sounded a lot more depressing than it was.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**December 2012**

          “Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?”  Spencer asked Ryan as they began to pile out the door.  “You’ll be here alone with Brendon.”  Ryan shrugged.

     “He probably won’t even come out of the room.   I’ll stay down here on the couch, and we won’t even see each other.  I’m just not feeling up to going out.”  Spencer felt Jon tug on his hand. 

     “Stay safe, Ry,” Jon said and Ryan laughed a bit because he honestly wasn’t worried.  Brendon was most likely going to keep to himself in the room upstairs and Ryan would just stay on the ground level. Everyone would be back within the next four hours, and he thought they could make it alone for that long.

     “Will do,” Ryan said.  He began to usher them back out into the cold they’d spent some of their day in already.

     “I’ll see you guys later,” he said waving them off and heading to the couch. Spencer let Jon tug him out the door where everyone was piled on the porch.

     “Everybody out?” Pete asked as he closed the door behind them. Jon had obtained Brendon’s van again, so he and Spencer offered up their extra seats.  Hayley and Vicky decided to ride separately with Travis tagging along, but Gabe, William, Pete and Patrick piled into the van.  Joe and Andy took Joe’s newly fixed car and Greta tagged along with them.

     “Ryan decided not to come then.” Pete stated from the backseat as Jon pulled out of the driveway.

     “Yeah, said he wasn’t feeling good,” was all Spencer told him and Pete nodded thoughtfully.  He was probably thinking about Ryan being alone with Brendon as well.

          “I’ll be murdered by my lovely mother if something valuable is broken,” Pete said to no one in particular, but Spencer hoped it wouldn’t come to that.  If all went well, Brendon and Ryan could ignore each other until everyone got back.

\---

    Ryan was toasty and warm on the couch when he remembered he’d left his guitar in the gazebo down by the lake.   They’d been outside earlier, bundled together and playing around on their instruments, but it wasn’t as fun to play outside when it was freezing.   If he was going to be stuck downstairs for the next four or five hours, he needed something other than the television to occupy his time. He moved to grab his coat off the wall next to the door and went into the den to grab his snow covered boots. He heard a loud thud from the back of the house just as he bent to retrieve his boots and he darted back to the doorway to see what it was. He didn’t see anything, so he shrugged it off and pulled his boots on, wanting to get back inside as soon as possible.

      He stepped outside and the pulled the door behind him, and it slammed, making him cringe. He rushed to the steps and moved out into the large backyard. He was freezing and his wool coat was doing nothing to remedy it as he trekked through the heavy snow.  It had started coming down harder since the morning and now it was a little difficult to see through, especially in the dark with only the house’s outdoor lights.  He shivered and shoved his gloved hands into his pockets.  He was glad that he’d taken care to bundle up before looking for his guitar, which he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.  He slid a little in his big leather boots, and he felt like his toes were seriously about to break off, and really, running out to a gazebo shouldn’t take so fucking long.

     He’d never been so happy to see a gazebo in his life, and Ryan sighed in relief as he climbed the small set of steps inside and saw his guitar. It only had a minor amount of snow on it, which was good since water in any form was not exactly good for it.  He quickly grabbed the guitar, headed back up to the house, and thankfully, the back porch seemed closer now that he was on his way back.  He was grateful to reach it and so was his body as the temperature felt as though it had dropped another ten degrees since he’d been out.  Ryan grabbed the door handle and – it didn’t move.

     He jerked on the door a few more times, grumbling.  He hadn’t locked the door on his way out; he was sure.  The thought to go around to the front and side doors occurred to him and he rushed to the other side.  They were all locked too.  He couldn’t think of a shittier way to start the night because his options were to either stay outside and freeze to death or knock for Brendon, who might not even let him in.  Surely he would, Ryan thought.  Brendon may have hated Ryan, but he doubted the other boy would leave him to freeze to death.  He tried the door a few more times before a voice called out to him.

     “Don’t bother.  That one’s locked too.”  Ryan spun to his right and found a very cold looking Brendon huddled against the side of the house.  He had no jacket on, just a long sleeve shirt, jeans, and boots.  He had to be frozen.

     “What are you doing?” Ryan asked him, and Brendon tried to shrug but his body shook fiercely.

     “I went to get those hot hands things out of the garage, but the door was locked and I didn’t know where the keys were.  Pete told me the back door will lock itself if it’s closed too hard, but I didn’t listen,” he coughed and laughed at the same time.  Ryan looked over Brendon again, seeing his hands shake violently.  “What about you?”

     Ryan lifted his guitar uselessly.  The only thing he could really think about was getting Brendon and himself inside.  He tugged fruitlessly on the door again.

     “Are you d-deaf?  The door is locked,” Brendon stuttered.  Ryan could practically hear his teeth chatter.

     “Jesus,” Ryan said, setting down his guitar and pulling off his gloves, even though he could feel the chill settling into his bones, “here.  It’s something.”  Brendon eyed the gloves for a moment.

     “No thanks.  I’m fine,” he said, and Ryan huffed, seeing his breath in clouds in front of his face.

     “You stubborn ass,” Ryan knelt down to Brendon’s level and shoved the gloves into his red and purpling hands, “put them on or I’ll put them on you.”  Brendon didn’t move immediately, but soon enough he was pulling the gloves on.  He watched Ryan suspiciously before asking, “why are you helping?”

     “Because I’m not a dick.  I wouldn’t leave you to freeze out here,” Ryan said, accusations behind the statement.  Brendon mumbled something.  “What?”

     “I wouldn’t leave you out here, either,” Brendon said a little louder.  Ryan didn’t know why it made his chest tighten, but he told himself it was just the cold constricting his lungs.  Brendon shoved his now gloved hands under his arms, cradling his sides.

     “How cold are you?”  Ryan asked suddenly, and the good news was that Brendon still had the ability to look at Ryan like he was crazy.  “I just mean, Spencer knows all that medical shit, and he said the best way to stay warm is through, you know, um, body heat?”  Ryan’s voice cracked, and Brendon shook his head.

      “No way.  No fucking way.  I’ll never be that cold, even if I’m a block of fucking ice,” Brendon bit out even as he shivered again.  Ryan glared at him and moved to slide down against the house while the front door acted like a barrier between them.  He felt the chill through his jeans and cringed.  He couldn’t imagine how cold Brendon must be.  They sat in silence for the good side of thirty minutes before Ryan heard Brendon exhale roughly and shift on the icy porch.

     “Alright,” Ryan said, determined, “number one, fuck you, and number two, deal with it.”  Brendon looked over to see Ryan shed his coat and move closer.  He attempted to move away, but Ryan latched onto Brendon’s solid arm.  Brendon wanted to fight him, but the call of warmth made him refrain.  Ryan pressed his side into Brendon’s, pulling him close until his arms were wrapped around Brendon and the length of their legs touched.  Ryan pulled his coat around both of them and took care to cover every inch of Brendon.

     “Shit, you’re cold,” Ryan stated the obvious, but Brendon didn’t call him out on it, just nodded.  He used his free hand to rub Brendon’s arm in an attempt to generate heat.  Brendon quivered against him and Ryan was struck with the realization that this was the first time they’d touched each other kindly and willingly since…

     “We tell no one,” Brendon said and Ryan readily agreed.  They tried not to make eye contact, especially since their faces almost touched when they turned towards each other.  Brendon wouldn’t admit it, but he already felt better.  As soon as Ryan had wrapped himself around him, Brendon had felt the warmth radiating off of him.  He didn’t want to seem weak, but his survival instincts took over and he pushed even closer to Ryan.  Ryan shoved his head into the side of Brendon’s neck.

     “What are you doing?”  Brendon asked him.

     “My face is cold too,” Ryan said nonchalantly into the chilled skin of Brendon’s neck.  Brendon focused on inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling…

     “Brendon?”  Ryan said looking up at Brendon who didn’t allow himself to look back.

     “What?”

     “Have you tried calling anyone?”  Brendon shook his head.

     “My phone is inside,” he told him, “you don’t think we’ll be out here until they get back, do you?”  Ryan didn’t want to answer because, yes, he did.  If the doors were locked, there was really no way in…

     “The windows!”  Ryan yelled, pushing himself off the ground, leaving Brendon under his coat.  He skid to the first window, then the second, then the third. “One of these has to open,” he said excitedly to Brendon.

     “Ryan.”

     “We can just climb in through the window.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

     “Ryan…”

     “Let me just check around the side.”

     “Ryan,” Brendon forced out again, feeling the cold seeping back in more rapidly than before.  Ryan finally spun to look at him.

     “What?”

     “I’m cold – it doesn’t feel right,” he said, but Ryan didn’t know what that meant.  Confusion, which Ryan thought was the only explanation for Brendon’s odd behavior, was supposed to be a sign of hypothermia.  Ryan scowled and promised never to listen to Spencer when he was on one of his medical rants again.

     “I’m trying,” he said, “just give me a minute, okay?  Stay awake and put that coat on.”  Ryan darted around the house to check every window in his reach.  He was beginning to think it was futile to try until he hit the half-sized window to the bathroom.  It cracked open easily and he was glad that Joe had been smoking pot inside.  Ryan couldn’t stop the grin taking over his face and used his new found adrenaline to pull himself through the small window.

     As soon as his feet hit the ground in the bathroom, Ryan tore through the house to get to the front door, unlocking it, and ripping it open.  Brendon looked up at him, squinting at the light flooding out from the living room, with a goofy smile on his face.  Ryan dipped down and pulled Brendon inside the door, shutting it quickly behind him.  He attempted to stand Brendon up, “come on, we need to get closer to the fire.  It’ll be warm.”  He hoped it was incentive enough, but Brendon’s tries to move were weak.

     Ryan leaned down, pulled Brendon up and supported him on the walk over to the fire.  “How long were you out there?”  Brendon shrugged.

     “Not that long, maybe ten minutes before you found me.  Got my boots stuck in ice on the way back, tried the back door, then the front.” he said.  Ryan winced, and thought they had to have been going in circles around each other outside.  He was surprised Brendon didn’t have full blown hypothermia from sitting in the wet snow without a coat.  Ryan pulled him down onto the rug in front of the fire, “stay here.”  Ryan rushed up the stairs and grabbed the large comforter off his bed then dragged it back down to sit with Brendon.

     “Okay, jacket off,” Ryan said as he helped Brendon take the coat off, “gloves and – and your shirt and pants too,” Ryan hesitated, but Brendon just stared at him.

     “What?”

     “Your clothes are still cold.  This blanket isn’t, now take it off.”  Brendon still didn’t make any move to take the clothes off.  “Goddamn it, Brendon!  This isn’t a time to be modest.”  Ryan avoided Brendon’s flailing arms and slipped his hands under Brendon’s shirt, tugging it up until Brendon gave in and allowed him to pull it away.  Ryan turned away as quickly as he could to grab the blanket and threw it over Brendon who clutched it close to his chest.  Then Ryan started on Brendon’s boots, pulling them off and tossing them to the side before he pushed himself off the ground and started back towards the stairs, practically running.

     “Where are you going?” Brendon asked as he wrestled under the blanket, weakly trying to pull his cool, wet jeans off.

     “To get warm,” Ryan told him, trying to get away as fast as possible because Brendon was one piece of clothing away from being naked.

     “We’re never going to mention this again,” Brendon said, “not even to each other, right?”  Ryan sighed heavily, “right.”  Then Brendon lifted the blanket he had hidden himself under in a silent offer.  Ryan couldn’t believe Brendon was actually asking him to join him.

     “You said that body heat was the best way to – to get warm, so…”  Brendon continued to hold the blanket up, and Ryan wondered if Brendon could see the heat rising in his skin. 

     “Okay,” he agreed and hated that it sounded eager to his own ears as he walked back to Brendon, pulling off his own boots.  He maintained enough distance that they wouldn’t touch as he slid under the cover and pulled off his own icy shirt and pants.  They laid down in silence until Brendon moved onto his side, facing Ryan.

     “Thank you.”  Ryan snapped his eyes to Brendon’s, unsure if he’d actually spoken.  A genuine, grateful comment from Brendon Urie?  Unheard of!

     “No problem,” Ryan answered him.  They were silent again while Brendon’s thanks sunk in.

     “Sorry for dropping that thing about Jon and Spencer,” Ryan offered, “I shouldn’t have.  They were the whole reason we attempted a truce in the first place.”  Brendon made a face.

     “Yeah, I was a dick about that one.  I am glad Jon’s happy,” Brendon admitted.

     “I know you are,” Ryan said honestly.  Brendon smiled slightly and Ryan took a deep breath.  Maybe it was time for him to stop being stubborn and finally talk about what happened.  He didn’t know how much longer Brendon would be docile, so it was now or never.  He had to force the next words that came out.

     “And I’m sorry I left you in that room.”  Ryan heard Brendon’s breathing cease and he waited for the blow.  It felt like he waited for an eternity.

     “I was so fucking humiliated,” Brendon said quietly and Ryan closed his eyes.

     “I know – I – I know.  I’m sorry,” he said again.  Brendon was soundless and Ryan turned to study him.  He could see the pale skin of Brendon’s shoulders peeking out of the blanket, the long line of his neck as it dipped down, and the shadows on his striking face as it hid from the light.  Ryan didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he reached out and grasped Brendon’s hand.

     “I’m sorry,” he said once more.  Brendon tensed under his touch and pulled away.  Ryan’s heart sank until -

     “I know,” Brendon said and then, “me too.  I – I started that first fight and I’m, you know, sorry.  I’m sorry, too.”

     “Brendon,” Ryan breathed, wanting to say so much more.

     “No,” he answered, “don’t push it.  Isn’t this enough?”  Ryan nodded quickly.

     “Yeah, you’re right,” Ryan said, but couldn’t help it.  He had to know if this meant what he thought it meant.  “Is this – are we going to be – are we going to be civil now? Or are we going to be friends or what?” 

     “Try,” he corrected Ryan, “we’re going to try to be friends.  We spent the last four years insulting and beating each other up.  It’s going to take more than a couple of apologies to fix that.”  Ryan considered it and decided it was better than nothing.  They remained under the cover together for another hour before they were warm enough to move.  They parted ways at the top of the stairs to get dressed and after that, Brendon remained in the room and Ryan went back downstairs.

     By the time everyone got back, there was no evidence of Ryan and Brendon’s exchange anywhere.

\---

     Around three in the morning, everyone was officially asleep, which allowed Ryan to creep through the house without disturbing anyone.  He snuck down the stairs, tip-toed into the living room and passed behind the couch so he couldn’t see Brendon curled up on the cushions.  He almost made it to the kitchen when he heard him.

     “What are you doing?” Brendon called out to him and Ryan jumped in the air.

     “Fuck!  You scared me,” he yell-whispered. Brendon laughed quietly.  “Why are you awake?” Ryan asked him.

     “Can’t sleep.  This couch is a bitch of a bed,” he complained, “you?”

     “I’m just – uh,” Ryan hesitated.  He wasn’t sure if Brendon would still make fun of him even though they had decided to be friends.  _Try_ , his brain stressed to him.  “I’m getting ice cream.  When I was a kid and I couldn’t sleep or I had a nightmare, my dad would sneak us some up to my room.”  Brendon looked at him thoughtfully.

     “Did you have a nightmare?”  Ryan shook his head, “no, just can’t sleep.”  Brendon stood up from the couch and passed Ryan on the way into the kitchen.  He turned his head to look at Ryan when he didn’t follow.

     “Are you coming?”  Ryan looked after him, surprised, but went after him anyway.  Brendon opened the freezer and dug around, “there’s neapolitan, mint chocolate, and I think there’s some cookie dough shoved in the back.”

     “Uh, cookie dough, definitely,” Ryan said without thought.  Brendon nodded, pulling the tub out.

     “Good choice,” he said and went through the drawers to look for spoons.  “There’s not much left, so I say we finish it off.”  Ryan caught the ice cream tub that Brendon tossed his way and settled onto one of the barstools by the counter. Brendon made a soft, “ah ha!” sound when he located the spoons and then sat down in the stool next to Ryan’s.  They weren’t close enough to bump elbows, but Ryan thought the fact that Brendon had chosen to sit by him was an improvement.  Ryan pried the lid off of the tub and picked up a spoon.

     “My favorite,” he said, “after Cherry Garcia.”  Brendon made a face at that, “no way, I can’t stand that stuff.  Cookie dough is the winner.”  Ryan knew he was grinning like an idiot.

“Why can’t you sleep?” Brendon asked him, taking a rather large bite.  Ryan shrugged, “I don’t know.  Just can’t get comfortable I guess.”

     “Why not?  You’ve got that huge bed to yourself.”  Ryan felt a little guilty about that one.

     “That’s probably why,” he said, not really thinking.  Brendon laughed around his spoon.  “What?” Ryan didn’t think he’d said anything funny.

     “Nothing,” Brendon said, “I know what you mean though.  One of the reasons I sleep over at Jon’s so much is because I hate to sleep alone.”  Ryan hadn’t thought of that, but he supposed that was what it was for him too.

     “Same with Spencer,” he said and Brendon laughed again.

     “Not so much now that they’re together.”  Ryan joked, “I don’t know.  We could always alternate weeks.  You can have them one week and I’ll get them the next.”  Brendon laughed a little too loudly, “it would work if I didn’t think they’d have sex with me right there,” he shuddered, “gross.”  Ryan continued to smile at him.  He couldn’t believe how well everything was going so soon after they’d talked.

     “Promise me if Spencer starts talking about their sex life, you’ll save me,” Ryan joked and, Brendon nodded vehemently, “of course, and same for me with Jon.  I don’t want to hear any of it.”

     “Deal,” Ryan said sticking out a hand and before he could decide if it was a bad idea, Brendon shook it.  That’s when everything became awkward, and Brendon slid his hand out of Ryan’s slowly and continued to eat.  They finished the ice cream in silence before Brendon threw away the empty tub and put the spoons in the sink.  Then Ryan watched as Brendon nodded to him, said a goodnight, and headed over to the couch.  It was at that point Ryan decided he had a decision to make.  He could make things worse or better, and it all depended on Brendon’s answer.

     Ryan made his way back into the living room and past the couch, but when he reached the stairs, he turned and asked Brendon the same thing he’d asked Ryan earlier, “Are you coming?”  Brendon only stared at him and Ryan could only think, _oh shit._   Ryan felt like an idiot and he was tempted to run up the stairs and deny everything.  When things felt as though they couldn’t get any worse, Brendon shocked him by standing up, gathering his pillow and blanket, and trailing over to Ryan. 

      When they reached the bedroom, Ryan wondered what exactly he’d been thinking.  He and Brendon had only been on timidly good terms for about eight hours and now Ryan was inviting him into bed?  It made no sense but there they were.  Ryan opened the door, let Brendon in and followed, closing the door behind him.  Ryan took a deep breath and decided to act as normal as possible.  He pulled off his socks and hopped into the bed, sliding under the heavy comforter, quilt, and thin sheet.  Brendon watched him from behind his pillow.

     “What?  Did you want this side?”  Brendon shook his head and finally moved into action.  He dumped his pillow on the bed and curled up on top of the comforter, pulling his small blanket over him and faced away from Ryan.  “You’re going to get cold under that thing,” Ryan pointed out, “this comforter is awesome.  It’s got feathers or some shit in it.”  Brendon’s shoulders shook with a small laugh and he lifted up to maneuver himself underneath the duvet.

     “Thanks,” Brendon said.

     “For what?  You would have realized how nice it was after your teeth started chattering.”

     “No, for the bed.  I wasn’t going to be able to sleep on the couch again.”  Ryan told him it was no problem and flipped his back to Brendon’s.  He hoped he’d be able to sleep since he’d gotten ice cream and a sleeping buddy, even if it was Brendon.  He tried not to think too much, knowing he’d never rest if his brain kept working a mile a minute.  When he heard Brendon’s breathing slow, he focused on the steady rhythm and matched his own to it.  Within moments Ryan was asleep.

\---

     “We can’t make a big deal about it,” Spencer whispered to Jon as they stared down at the two boys.

     “Yeah,” Jon said uselessly.  It wasn’t everyday he saw his friends in bed together.

     “It might not mean anything,” Spencer reasoned, “they’re not even touching.”  It was true, they weren’t touching, but it was close enough.  Their backs faced each other but the distance between them was minimal, close enough that they could probably feel the heat from the other person.

     At Jon’s silence Spencer said, “it means something, doesn’t it?” and Jon nodded.  Brendon and Ryan wouldn’t have willingly slept in the same bed unless they were on good terms, and they wouldn’t be on good terms unless something big happened.

     “What happened last night?”  Spencer shrugged, “I don’t know, but we can’t mention it and if they tell us, we act like we’re surprised.”  It sounded good to Jon since he didn’t want to say anything to Brendon and reverse the progress he and Ryan may have made.

\---

    Ryan was thankful he woke up before Brendon.  He had been terrified to actually wake up with him.  ‘What ifs’ had run rampant through his head about how Brendon might react if he woke up next to Ryan.  Instead he’d woken up, snuck out of the bed, and headed downstairs.  He was met with a huge spread of food on the counters, poring over to the table, and three lively girls and one Joe.  He could hear them talking about things involving the food, the guys, and who was allergic to what.

     “Ryan, you’re up!”  Greta pulled him into the kitchen and pushed him into a seat at the table.  “What are you up for?  Pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast…?”  Ryan smiled up at her and shrugged, “surprise me.”  While Greta was making Ryan’s plate, Jon and Spencer wandered in.

     “Sit,” Vicky told Spencer, who stood closest to her, “I’ll make you a plate.”  Spencer stared at her for a moment before turning to Jon.

     “Jon, I’m leaving you.”  Jon scoffed, “that’s fine.  Hayley is more my type anyway. I like redheads.” Ryan laughed at their little exchange as they joined him at the table, passing by Joe whose idea of helping was eating the bacon before it could hit the plate.

     “You’re up early, Ry.  Sleep well?” Jon asked him and Ryan heard Spencer’s foot connect with Jon’s shin.

     “Uh, yeah, I slept fine.”  Spencer nodded thoughtfully, but Ryan wasn’t fooled.  He knew something was up, but Andy burst in before he could confront them.  Soon, Travis, Gabe and William joined them in the kitchen.

     “Jon and I are together now,” Hayley told Travis as she handed him a plate of mainly French toast.  Travis looked up and smiled widely at Spencer.  “So does that mean I get Spencer in this exchange?”  Jon flipped him off and smirked around his food.  Brendon found his way to the kitchen then and was greeted by Greta.

     “What can I get you?” she asked and Brendon scratched the back of his neck, eyes roaming over the food behind her.

     “I can get it,” he said, but Greta put a hand up.  “Tell me what you want, Brendon.”  He laughed at her attempt to scare an order out of him, but told her nonetheless.  As he walked by the other two girls, he placed a kiss on each of their cheeks and then one on Greta’s forehead, “thank you.”  She beamed at him when he took the plate from her and grabbed the last seat at the table, diagonal from Ryan and next to William.  They ate and talked happily while waiting on Pete and Patrick to finally drag themselves downstairs.

    “I can’t eat any more,” Ryan said, pushing his plate away.  Brendon raised his fork to get Ryan’s attention and mouthed, “bacon.”  Ryan nodded and forked the rest of his bacon onto Brendon’s plate, and then he sat back in his seat and continued to run his hand over his full stomach while Brendon kept eating.  It wasn’t until Ryan looked up that he realized everyone was staring at them.

     “What the hell?” Andy said, his voice loud in the silence of the room.  Brendon stopped eating to look around at everyone, “What?”  Andy began to reply but, much to Ryan’s relief, Pete and Patrick strolled in.

     “Holy shit!” Pete said at the sight of food.  “God, I love women.”  Vicky laughed at him, “Joe helped.”

     Pete nodded, staring at the food. “And Joe. I love women and Joe,” he said, breaking the awkward atmosphere and Vicky pulled him over to make a plate.  No one forgot what had gone on at the table, but no one mentioned it either.

     Spencer wondered how much it was going to cost him to keep everyone quiet about Ryan and Brendon because he wasn’t going to let anyone fuck up their maybe friendship.


	10. Chapter 10

**December 2012**

     Spencer had somehow managed to keep everyone’s attention off what had happened at breakfast all day; once he’d mentioned New Year’s Eve, Ryan and Brendon had been forgotten and everyone had moved onto better things, like partying.  Quickly, they’d dispersed to find all the things needed for a New Year’s party.

     “Really, a wine cellar? In your second house?  You are so rich,” Spencer said to Pete as they rummaged through the downstairs cellar.  Pete flipped him off and went back to digging through the oversized cooler.  Spencer kept himself occupied and pulled out a dusty bottle of merlot with the date 1977, “shit.  This stuff is old.”  Pete huffed in agreement and pulled out a case of beer from the bottom of the cooler, “I knew this was here!”  He set it on the ground and closed the lid of the cooler, “there should be stronger stuff in my dad’s office and maybe in the freezer.”  Spencer nodded and gathered up the champagne (“it’s tradition!” Pete had told him) and the second case of beer they’d found.

     As they made their way upstairs, they heard William and Gabe coming back from the store.  According to William, New Year's Eve was nothing without proper attire and favors.  Spencer followed Pete into the kitchen and dumped the alcohol on the counter next to the grocery bags.

    “We’ve got glasses, hats, confetti poppers, fireworks, and more,” Gabe said in his best infomercial voice.  Spencer rolled his eyes and rifled through the bags.  He pulled out a pair of the ridiculous sunglasses covered in silver glitter.  “Are you kidding me?”  Gabe flipped him off, “no, they’re awesome.”  Pete snorted next to Spencer even as he put them on. 

     “This is all kind of… gay,” Pete commented, the glitter already falling onto his cheeks as he spoke.

     Gabe gave him an incredulous look and said, “you’re not serious.”

     “It’s a good idea,” William told Gabe giving his shoulders a squeeze.

     “What’s a good idea?” Brendon asked as he entered the kitchen, yawning even though it was only three in the afternoon.

     “Being gay,” Pete replied shortly. 

     “Cool,” Brendon said as he grabbed a coke out of the fridge, “I like being gay.”  Just as quickly, he was gone, and Spencer didn’t have to look at anyone to know what they were thinking.  “Alright, so I’m going to go,” Spencer said, running to find Jon before he could be interrogated about any reconciliation between his best friend and Brendon.

\---

     Things went downhill around ten that evening.  Andy and Greta had come downstairs, smiling happily at each other, and announced they had broken up.

     “What?” Gabe shouted and Greta merely waved him off.

     “It’s a new year,” she shrugged, “we graduate in like, five months, and Andy and I have different things we want to do.  It’s not a big deal.”  Andy nodded along with her and no one thought it was normal how casual they were about it.

     “But you guys have been together for years,” Gabe protested and rose from his spot on the couch.  If anyone was going to get upset over the break up, it looked like it was going to be Gabe.

     “Yeah, and now we’re not,” Andy said, “we’re still friends.  It’ll make more sense to you guys when we all part ways… We aren’t going to all keep in touch forever.” 

     “Fuck that,” Pete said, looking over the back of his chair at them, “none of you fuckers are ever going to get rid of me.”  Andy shook his head but smiled nonetheless, “I just mean that we’re going to separate at the end of the year, and, in hopes of not sounding like a coming-of-age teen movie, odds are, high school will be the last time we’re all together like this.”

     “Why pressure that with a relationship that you know is going to end?  Don’t spend the rest of our time together worrying over trivial things like that,” Greta backed Andy up.  Everyone was quiet, processing her words when Andy said, “you hear that?  This girl is going to Yale and she’s going to be more successful than all your dumb asses.”  Greta laughed and hugged Andy gleefully.

     “You got in?”  Vicky said excitedly.  Greta nodded, “my mom called, said I had a huge envelope from Yale, early acceptance!”  Vicky yelled and ran to hug her best friend.  Hayley jumped her next, grinning broadly, “we’re so proud of you!”  The rest of the gang took their turns hugging Greta and giving their congratulations.  Gabe went last, smiling although he was unhappy.

     “I’m not surprised,” he whispered as he hugged her close, “you’re a fucking genius.”  Greta smiled into Gabe’s chest and pulled back to study his face.  He was glancing unhappily between her and Andy.  She laughed lightly and leaned up to whisper back to him, “I didn’t say all relationships end.  Andy and I aren’t meant to be. We knew that, but we had a good run,” she leaned back again, “not everyone gets as lucky as you while they’re still in high school.”  Gabe smiled sadly at her, but he appreciated her words.  He still worried about his and Bill’s relationship, especially since it was out in the open that they wanted to go to two different colleges.

     “Maybe you’re right,” Gabe told her and she frowned at him. 

     “If you ever break up with William, I will fly to New York and personally murder you.  Same goes for him.”  Gabe forcibly laughed past his distress.  Greta rubbed a hand over his shoulder in comfort, “stop worrying and let’s light some fireworks and drink some over-priced champagne.”  Gabe smiled at the idea and pushed away from her.

     “Everyone,” Gabe announced, “get dressed and meet me on the back porch in thirty minutes!” 

     They stared after as he bounded up the stairs and Pete snickered, “I can’t wait to blow some stuff up.”

\---

     They didn’t get started until ten forty-seven, much to Gabe’s dismay, but he and William began to set the fireworks up anyway.  Everyone crowded onto the back porch, and Ryan kept close to the door to make sure it didn’t close and lock them out as they all watched the two boys stick the bases of the fireworks into the ground.  Brendon kept glancing over at him, amused at Ryan’s paranoia.

     “I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Spencer said, shivering in his too-thin coast as Gabe lodged a particularly large rocket looking firework into the ground.  Joe laughed next to him, “who cares?  This is gonna be awesome.”  Spencer rolled his eyes and glared at Jon when he snickered at Joe.  Pete pushed through them and grabbed Jon.  “I need to borrow this one,” he told Spencer and pulled Jon along behind him, and Jon just smiled back at him and allowed Pete to drag him into the house.

     “What are we doing?” Jon asked when they made it to the kitchen.  Pete sighed heavily and picked up the plastic grocery bags, “Gabe thinks that I should be in charge of the ridiculous party favors since I thought it was so stupid.” 

     Jon laughed, “I thought you liked tradition.  If it were up to me, we’d be doing shots at midnight.  Not toasting champagne.” 

     Pete glared half-heartedly at him, “hey, that is a good tradition!  It tastes good – and the bubbles make my nose tickle.”  Jon snorted loudly.

     “Shut up and help me,” Pete said and shoved some of the bags at Jon.  He glanced inside one bag and spotted the hats, and he pulled two out and slapped one on Pete’s head.  Pete glared, but before he could pull it off, Jon said, “leave it!  We’re celebrating.” Grumbling under his breath, Pete led Jon back outside and handed his bag off to the nearest person.  “Please do something with this,” he said to Hayley.  She smiled brightly when she realized what was in the bags and slid on a pair of sunglasses, “awesome.”  Pete rolled his eyes but decided they suited her and said nothing.  She passed the bag along as they waited for Gabe and Bill to finish setting things up.

     Travis snatched the bag from her and pulled out a confetti popper before he handed the bag off to Patrick who passed it along just as quickly to let Joe and Andy tear through it.  Pete smiled at his friend as he pulled his coat tighter around himself.  He was tempted to grab Patrick and go inside to have their own New Year’s where it wasn’t fuck below freezing.  He glanced around his friends and noticed that Ryan had disappeared from his spot by the door.  He wondered briefly where he’d gone off to when he saw Spencer pulling Jon inside the house and laughed lightly under his breath.

     “What’s so funny?”  Vicky asked as she approached him.  He glanced over her long, bright red coat and replied, “not much.  You’re hot, you know, for a chick.”  Vicky laughed and buried her cold nose into her scarf as he slid closer and pulled her into his side.

     “So, now that Greta and Andy are done, what’s the outlook for you and Joe?”  Vicky shrugged and leaned closer to him, “who knows.  Joe and I are having a good time together, I guess.  I mean, I don’t think Joe is the man I’ll marry if that’s what you’re asking.  I hope we end things as well as Andy and Greta did, but they’re like, adults in teenager bodies.”  Pete shot her a small smile in agreement.

     “So you don’t think that people in high school stay together?”  Vicky smirked at him and took a drink from the purple plastic cup in her hand.

     “I’m not saying that.  Some people do.  My parents did,” she gestured with her cup in Gabe and William’s direction, “I have no doubt they will.  I wouldn’t be surprised to get a lavish invitation to their wedding in a few years.”  Pete nodded and knew he wouldn’t be either.  “And of course, there are people who, regardless of their relationship, will find a way to stay with each other.  You know, Ryan and Spencer,” Vicky said, “they’ll be friends forever.  Then, there is the duo to end all duos,” she paused dramatically, “you and Patrick.”  Pete stopped himself from looking over at the other boy.

     “You guys are like cosmic or something,” she laughed, “it’s fucking weird.”  Pete leaned up and pressed a friendly kiss to her lips, which made her flushed face darken even more.

     “Thank you,” he said.  She didn’t answer, but she smiled brightly into her cup.

     “Dude, I get you’re not into ladies, but come on.  Kissing on my woman?”  Joe said and pulled Pete into him, tucking the shorter boy under his arm.  Vicky rolled her eyes and moved to kiss Joe.

     “There, happy?”  Joe winked at her and then looked at Pete, “mind if I steal her?  They’re about to set the fireworks off, and I want to be romantic and shit.”  Pete laughed and Vicky sighed sarcastically, “you’re sweeping me off my feet, Joe.”  Pete watched them make their way to the steps and sit down next to Travis and Hayley.  He looked across the porch and saw Patrick talking with Andy while Greta listened on.  He thought a lot about what Andy had said about everyone being together for the last time, and about Vicky and what she said about Patrick and him.  He watched Patrick laugh and hit his cup against Andy’s and wondered if they were right.  Would he and Patrick lose touch after high school or would they find a way to stay friends – or whatever they were?  He grabbed one of the beers off the table next to him and popped the cap.  It was going to be a long night.

\---

     “What are we doing?” Jon asked Spencer as he was led upstairs.  Spencer ignored him, but turned long enough to shove one of the bottles of champagne Pete had insisted on into Jon’s hand.  Spencer moved quickly down the dark hallway and stopped abruptly at the door to the attic.  He pulled the door open and waited for Jon to walk in before closing the door behind them.  Jon was feeling a grand sense of anticipation at what might happen as he followed Spencer up the set of narrow stairs.   When they reached the top, Spencer pulled him across the box-filled attic and over to the window.  Jon knew now what Spencer had in mind and handed the bottle back to Spencer.

     “I’ve got it,” he said and pulled the window open.  He checked the roof for ice before climbing out onto the flat top.  Spencer followed him out a moment later with a blanket and nestled into Jon’s side as they sat down on the chilly rooftop.  Jon could hear their friends talking and laughing on the ground below and he knew if he looked down he’d see Gabe and William setting up fireworks.

     “I must admit,” Jon started, “this is incredibly cheesy and romantic, even for you.”  Spencer still said nothing, but he smiled, draped the blanket over them and began to push the top out of the champagne bottle.  He laughed when Spencer jumped at the pop, and held it to the side when some of the liquid spilled.  He took a long drink from the bottle before handing it to Jon.  They were quiet for a while, just looking out at the frozen water and listening to Gabe’s loud orders and Hayley’s equally loud laugh.

     “Is there a reason we’re alone up here and not celebrating with everyone else?”  Spencer glanced over at him and pulled another drink from the bottle.  “You know, you not saying anything is freaking me out a little.” 

     “I wanted to be alone with you,” was all Spencer said and for Jon, it was enough, so he didn’t push it.  He pulled him closer and snatched the bottle from his hand, and Spencer glanced down at his wrist and Jon noticed the watch there for the first time.  He smiled as he tipped the bottle against his lips.

     “You brought me up here to ravish me at midnight, you dirty man.”  Spencer snorted and replied, “I thought you were supposed to do the ravishing.”  Jon tensed slightly at the idea, but he definitely remembered that he had won their little bet.  He looked over at Spencer, “I remember.  Is that what this is about?”  Spencer shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him, but Jon wasn’t taking it so lightly, so he grabbed the bottle from Spencer and sat it next to him, “don’t.  I want you totally sober if we’re doing this.”  Spencer eyed him cautiously.

     “If I tell you we’re not having sex tonight -.”

     “Then we’re not having sex tonight,” Jon interrupted him, “you’re in charge and whenever you’re ready, that’s when it’ll happen.”  He knew that he’d told Spencer it would happen when he least expected it, but in reality, Jon knew Spencer would take the lead no matter the outcome of the bet. Spencer was silent long enough for Jon to look over, but as soon as he did, Spencer attached his mouth to Jon’s.

     “I’m going to California with you. I applied to UCLA,” Spencer said against his lips and Jon pulled back, surprised. They’d never talked about what was going to happen after they graduated.

    “Yeah?”  Spencer nodded and kissed him again, “now take me to bed.”  Jon grinned and pulled Spencer up off the roof with him because he did not need to be told twice.

     “We’re going to miss the fireworks,” Jon commented absently, though he couldn’t care less.  Spencer laughed, “well, my plan was if you didn’t say the right thing, we’d just sit here and watch.”

     “And if I said the right thing?” Jon asked as he waited for Spencer to slide back inside through the window.  Spencer waited until Jon was inside with him and the window was shut tight behind them.  “Then you were getting lucky.”  Jon smiled and watched Spencer descend the stairs.

     When they made it back to their room, Spencer opened the door and Jon spotted the condom box on the nightstand.  He looked at Spencer and raised an eyebrow in question, but Spencer shrugged again, smirking, “I assumed you would say the right thing.” Jon couldn’t stop smiling at him as he locked the door behind him.  Before Spencer could say anything else, Jon pushed him down on the bed and crawled on top.

     “Happy New Year’s to me,” he said.  Spencer exhaled happily, “and I’m the cheesy one?”  Jon shut him up with a kiss.

\---

     When midnight finally rolled around, Gabe and William were done with the fireworks and had moved onto the porch with everyone else.  Travis, by chance, glanced at his cellphone and saw it was 11:57.  “Three minutes!” He announced.  There were a few hollers and Pete laughed when Joe dipped Vicky low and kissed her.  “It’s not time yet,” she giggled as he pulled her upright.  Pete looked around for Patrick and found him walking inside.  He frowned and maneuvered his way through his friends to follow him in.  He closed the door quietly behind him and found Patrick in the kitchen pulling a new plastic cup from one of the grocery bags on the counter.

     “Hey,” he said as he entered.  Patrick looked over at him and smiled, waving the cup.  “My other one was taken hostage in a game of cups.”  Pete nodded and returned the smile tentatively.  Ever since Vicky had talked to him, he’d only been able to think about Patrick and what they were to each other – if they would always have each other.  “I’m always going to be around, you know - if you need me.”  Patrick frowned at him, “how drunk are you?”  Pete shook his head, “I’m not.  I’m just thinking about after we graduate and stuff…”  Patrick sighed and moved closer to Pete, leaving his new, empty cup sitting on the counter.

     “We’ve been friends too long for it to end just because I’m going to New York and you’re staying in Chicago,” he said, “we’ll visit each other.  Do you really think my parents would let me stay away too long?  Do you think _your_ parents would let me?” he laughed.  Pete still wasn’t satisfied but he shrugged, “yeah, I guess.”  Patrick rolled his eyes, “no one will put up with me like you and the guys do.  I can’t get rid of you now.”  Pete shook his head.

     “Bullshit, you would be hard pressed to find people who don’t like you.” 

     “None of them are my best friend since kindergarten.”  Pete looked everywhere but at Patrick.  He knew he should be happy that Patrick didn’t think anyone could replace him, but knowing that it was because they were just friends – that bothered him.  He heard everyone outside counting down.

     “Twenty seconds til’, we should get back out there,” Patrick said moving back to his cup and filling it before he tried to pass Pete. 

     “No,” Pete pulled him close, “we’re not just friends, are we Trick?”  Patrick’s throat was closing up rapidly, “of course we are.  You’re my best friend.”  Pete shook his head as his friends continued chanting in the background and he pulled the cup out of Patrick’s hands, placing it back on the counter, “11… 10… 9…” 

     “Pete.”  Patrick was afraid, and Pete could see that as he moved closer, hand fisting Patrick’s coat.  “We haven’t been just friends for long time,” Pete told him and then pushed his lips against Patrick’s.  He didn’t think much more after Patrick’s hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, just like he had months before. 

     They’d always been much more than friends.

\---

     Ryan heard everyone outside celebrating from the den where he’d snuck inside when he realized he’d have to watch everyone around him make out at midnight.  He’d settled down in the den to watch one of the movies he’d found on the shelf.  New Year’s wasn’t a big deal in his opinion.  He’d never actually made any resolutions or kissed anyone at midnight – anyone of importance anyway.  He watched as Kate Hudson’s character was picked up off the bathroom floor when he heard footsteps on the wooden floors behind the couch.

    “Hey,” Brendon said as he walked in.  He looked up at the TV and smiled, “ _Almost Famous_ , that’s one of my favorite movies.”  Ryan glanced back at the television, “yeah, mine too… Didn’t want to stay outside?”  Brendon shook his head.

     “Once Hayley and Travis started going at it, I knew I had to get out of there.”  Ryan laughed softly, “well, come on.  I’ll start it over.” 

     “You don’t have to do that. You wanted to be alone.”

     “No, I didn’t want to see everyone make out,” he corrected and stood up, “come on.”  Brendon moved around the couch and sat down as Ryan grabbed the remote off the coffee table and started the movie over again.  The opening credits rolled and Ryan sat back down and outside they could hear the countdown to New Year’s.

     “Got any resolutions?”  Ryan was surprised at the question, but shook his head.  “No? Why? I always have this ridiculously long list, but –,” Brendon dropped off and laughed, “I rarely stick to them.”

     “What about this year?” Ryan asked him, and Brendon looked up to the ceiling like the words were written there.  “Mainly, I want to get and ace the audition to Berkley.  I have a few other ones,” he said glancing at Ryan, “but they’re not as attainable, I guess.”  Ryan nodded and stared at his hands.  Outside Ryan heard everyone shouting “happy new year”.  Brendon was watching the movie with a smile, “happy new year.”  Ryan echoed him and directed his eyes back to the TV.

     He never thought he’d spend a civil New Year’s with Brendon Urie, but he was happy to be wrong.

**January 2013**

     Pete didn’t know how long they’d been kissing, but he could feel how swollen and raw and wet his mouth was.  He knew somewhere in the back of his head that it was already the new year and any minute his friends were going to come pouring inside.  Patrick made a sound in the back of his throat, and Pete moved one of his arms to wrap around his back, hoping to find a way to pull him closer.  It was exactly how Pete thought his new year should be, but then the door to the patio opened and Gabe’s voice rose over the group’s laughter.  Patrick jolted against him and pulled away with wide eyes.

     “Patrick -.”  Pete watched horrified as Patrick backed away and rushed out of the kitchen.  He leaned against the wall and tried to level his breathing as his friends filed into the living room, not even glancing in the kitchen as they passed.  He didn’t think that one through, and he should’ve known things wouldn’t end well when they never had before.  He and Patrick had just gotten into a better place and Pete had to go and fuck it all up.  He looked around the corner into the living room and saw everyone piled onto the couch and chairs watching some New Year’s Eve special, trying to warm up from their time outside.  He noted absently that Jon, Spencer, Ryan and Brendon were missing.  And so was Patrick.  He sighed, ran a hand over his face and picked up the cup Patrick had filled and left behind.  He wondered how well he could hide his appearance from the others if he went by to the stairs.  He downed the drink and figured it was worth a try.

     He moved quickly and quietly behind the couch to the stairs, but was stopped by a long arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind.  He was turned around to face Travis, “where do you think you’re going?  Everyone is trying to skip out on us, but you’re not.  Let’s go.”  Travis dragged him to the center of the living room and Gabe looked at him happily.  Gabe pulled him away from Travis and tucked Pete in between him and William.

     “You look wrecked, Petey,” Gabe said smirking, like he knew exactly what Pete had been up to.  Pete forced out a fake laugh, and William’s smile immediately dropped, “what happened?”  Pete shook his head, damning his friends for knowing him so well, “nothing.”

     “Pete -.” 

     “It was nothing.  I’m exhausted and a little drunk,” Pete said standing, “I’ll see you guys in the morning.  We’ll go to breakfast or something.”  He pulled away from Gabe’s persistent hold and made his way upstairs.  He wanted to go into the room he shared with Patrick, but remembering the look Patrick had given him made him stay away.  He’d give him some more time before he went in.  Hell, he needed to give himself some time too.

\---

     “Holy hell,” Jon huffed out, and Spencer breathed out his agreement and ran his hand over his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face.  Jon looked over at Spencer and smiled, “we need to do that all the time.”  Spencer laughed and rolled closer before grimacing, “ew, we’re gross.”

    “Shower?”  Spencer nodded and pulled the sheets off of them.  Jon followed him to the bathroom, enjoying the view immensely, when Spencer turned around with a serious look on his flushed face, and it stopped Jon in his tracks.

     “I love you,” Spencer said before he turned to go into the bathroom.  Jon gawked after him and forced his brain to catch up.  He darted into the bathroom, almost falling into Spencer, and stumbled out, “me too!  I mean, me – I,” Spencer laughed as Jon fumbled his words, “I love you too.”  Spencer turned the shower on and turned around to face him.

     “I figured,” he said and kissed Jon before stepping in under the lukewarm water.  Jon grinned and followed him in wondering why the hell he waited so long to make a move.

\---

     It was well after two when Brendon and Ryan made their way up to the room.  They’d finished the movie and talked some more before Ryan started nodding off.  They bumped into Pete in the hallway and said goodnight to him before shuffling into their room, none of them commenting on the fact that Pete was stumbling around the hallway.  They didn’t speak again as they got ready for bed and slid under the covers, back to back.

     Pete had holed himself up in the bathroom for so long he thought he would fall asleep in there, and now he was wandering the hall trying to psych himself up to go into the room he shared with Patrick.  After saying goodnight to Brendon and Ryan (which he didn’t even want to try and wrap his head around that one), he finally moved to the master bedroom and pulled on the handle – which didn’t budge.  Pete tried it again and again until he realized that Patrick had locked him out, and for some reason he found it hard to catch his breath.  Patrick had locked him out, and it was clear that Patrick thought what happened was a mistake and didn’t want Pete anywhere near him.  He could feel his chest constrict, and a lump the size of a tennis ball grew in his throat. 

     Pete felt his feet carry him to Gabe and Bill’s door, and he saw his hand knock lightly, even though he didn’t want to bother them.  There were muffled sounds inside and what sounded like an annoyed sigh when the door was finally opened.  Bill stood, rumpled and tired, rubbing his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light from the hall, “Pete?  What the hell, dude?”  Pete said nothing and glanced at Gabe on the bed behind William.  Gabe was more alert than his partner, “Bill.”  He sounded sad, and Bill grabbed Pete’s arm to pull him in. 

     “What happened?” Gabe asked him when Bill had closed the door.

     “I fucked up.  He -.”  Pete’s voice caught silently in his throat and he stopped.  Bill pushed him gently towards the bed and Gabe moved over to accommodate the other boys.  Pete had been in this situation before, settled between Gabe and William.  He felt the two close in on him like a child in their parents bed after a nightmare.   He supposed that’s what tonight had been, a nightmare. They didn’t speak again, and Bill pushed a warm hand over Pete’s hair and he sunk into the bed, praying for sleep.

\---

    There were a few blissful moments that morning where Pete couldn’t remember the events of the previous night.  He rolled to his side in the bed and smiled as he got more comfortable.  He reached out to find Patrick’s arm, and when he found nothing there – his eyes opened and last night rushed back.  He was in Gabe and William’s room, alone, and Patrick… Patrick had locked him out.  He forced himself into a sitting position and looked around the room.  He felt a pang of longing when he realized he couldn’t tell Gabe’s things from Bill’s.  The bags were on the floor next to each other, but the clothes mingled together, and Pete knew if he looked in the bathroom, their things would be a tangled mess.  He wanted that with someone more than he’d ever admit out loud; he wanted to be so close to someone that he didn’t know where they ended and he began.

     He slowly pulled the covers off himself, looked at the clock (12:04), and pushed his legs off the bed.  Even though he’d slept for the better side of eight hours, he felt exhausted.  The bed on either side of him had gone cold which meant the guys had been up for a while, and he was surprised given how they’d all partied into the night.  He braced himself on the edge of the bed and debated on going back to his room, if the door was unlocked.  He wanted a hot shower and some sleep, but hearing the sounds of his friends downstairs, he knew he wouldn’t get it.  Just as he was pushing himself off the bed, William opened the door quietly.

     “Oh, hey,” he said, opening the door fully, “you’re up.  How’re you doing?”  Pete looked up at him and frowned.  “Right,” Bill said slowly, and Pete could tell something was wrong, because he knew the look William was giving him. He had given him the same look right before he’d told Pete they should just be friends when they had so briefly dated.

     “What?” Pete croaked and frowned at the sound.  William walked over to him and sat on the bed.  “Pete,” he stopped, “okay, I’m still not sure what happened yesterday, but I want you to know that Gabe and I – all of us, actually, are here for you.”  Pete shifted away from William.

     “What’s going on?” Pete asked, “and don’t beat around the bush.  Just fucking tell me.”  Bill looked down at his hands, the floor, the walls, everywhere but Pete.

     “Patrick left.”  Pete heard him say, but it was almost like he’d gone deaf for a moment.  “Joe and Vicky left this morning around eight with him.”  Pete shook his head, and thought that there was no way that was true. Patrick wouldn’t just leave without talking to him.  Pete had been in some pretty big fights with him before, but he’d never just left.  “Pete –.”  But he was already to the door, and he all but ran to the bedroom and threw open the door.  He saw his things piled in the corner just as he’d left them, but Patrick’s bag was missing, his glasses were gone from the nightstand, and the bed was neatly made.  He closed the door behind him, ignoring Bill calling out to him, and locked it.  He saw the note sitting on the bottom corner of the bed and reached for it.  It was blank on the outside, but inside was Patrick’s handwriting.

_I think we could use some space. It was mistake.  I’m sorry._

    Pete was more than upset, he was livid.  _This_ was the grand note Patrick left him.  An apology in three sentences.  He fumed, crumpling the note and threw it across the room.

     “Pete,” William’s voice came from the door, “Vicky left this for you.”  Pete saw another note slip under the door.  “We’re headed out for lunch… I think you should come.  We’re leaving in fifteen, so – please come with us.”  Pete didn’t move until he heard William walk away, and then he snatched the note up and saw his name was scrawled across the front in Vicky’s careless, but flawless cursive.  He wondered for a second if girls took some class that made their writing look perfect as he flipped it open and read:

_I know you’re pissed at Joe and I for taking him home.  I didn’t want to, but he was a mess, Pete.  I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry all the same.  I wish there was something I could do, but remember what I said last night.  Give him some time.  He’ll come around.      Love you._

     Pete dropped the note on the floor next him and crawled up to the head of the bed.  Pulling the covers down, he slid in on Patrick’s side and closed his eyes.  Sleep was the only way to ignore it all.


	11. Chapter 11

**January 2013**

     “He just left?”

     “Yeah, got Joe up at seven and they were gone by eight.”

     “I can’t believe he left without saying anything,” Hayley sighed unhappily and sunk down in her chair.  They’d made their way to a small diner about half an hour away from the cabin.  The eleven of them had pulled chairs up to a large round table until there was no more breathing room.   Greta, next to Hayley, spoke up, “Why leave, though?  Did something happen?”  Gabe said nothing from his place between Greta and William because he knew it wasn’t his place to spill no matter how much he wanted to.

     “Who knows, it has something to do with Pete though,” Travis said as Hayley leaned onto him. 

     Andy was fidgeting in his chair next to Travis, uncomfortable that they were talking about his best friends, but he agreed, “it always has something to do with him.  They’re all kinds of fucked up.”  Jon snorted in amusement at Andy’s right.  That was true; it always did have something to do with Pete.  

     Spencer leaned against Jon’s arm draped on the back of his chair, and spouted off his theory, “they probably made out and Patrick ran off.”  William choked on his water, and Ryan patted him on the back.  Spencer laughed, “I’m right, aren’t I?”  but William only glared at him, not denying it.

     “That doesn’t make sense,” Brendon spoke up at Spencer’s right, “that’s a good thing, right? ‘Cause they’re into each other?”

     “They’re friends first.  Kissing your friend changes things whether you want it to or not,” Greta said.

     “I don’t think he’s going to want to stay here the rest of the break,” William said finally, “maybe we should just head home soon.”  There was a murmur of agreement around the table. No one wanted to stick around the cabin and watch Pete wallow in his room.  Just as soon as the decision was made, the atmosphere became relaxed and easy, and they dug into their meals, stole off each other’s plates, and after Gabe mentioned Greta going to Yale, they talked about college.

     Ryan thought about what Andy had said the night before about this being their last few months together, and he didn’t like that the more he thought about it.  He and Spencer had never been apart for longer than a month, but the way things were going for him and Jon, Ryan wouldn’t have been surprised if Spencer followed him to California, and that would put them on opposite sides of the country.  They would all be spreading out, losing touch.  Granted, Patrick and Gabe would be in New York with him which meant he’d probably still see William – and maybe Pete – on a regular basis.  It was a given that he’d never lose touch with Spencer, and he supposed that meant Jon, too… Regardless, he wouldn’t see over half of this group together in one place, and that was scary.  He’d known them and had been going to school with a lot of them since kindergarten. These people had been his friends for as long as he could remember.

     Then there was Brendon.  He’d just gotten to a better place with him; he couldn’t lose him again so soon.  Boston wasn’t exactly down the road from New York, so the chance of casually running into him was slim to none.  Ryan was startled out of his thoughts when William gently elbowed him.

    “What?” Ryan looked up to see Gabe staring at him.

     “I said have you heard anything from NYU?” Gabe said again.  Ryan shook his head, “no, not yet.  I’m sure I’ll hear soon enough.  You?”

     “My letter is at the house,” he said, “it’s the big envelope.” 

     “I’m sure you got in,” Ryan said, smiling tightly, and Brendon shifted uncomfortably on the other side of Gabe. Ryan’s eyes lifted to Spencer next to him – who was definitely staring them down.  He frowned at Spencer’s obviousness and wondered just how much he knew about Brendon and their reunion. 

     “What?” He mouthed.  Spencer shrugged, shaking his head and turning away to face Jon.  Travis’ phone rang softly under the loud sound of their voices, “hello?”  Immediately Travis’ eyes widened in surprise.  “Yeah, man, that sounds fine… Are you sure you’re –,” Travis was cut off, “alright, we’ll see you -  yeah, man, bye,”  Travis slowly slid his phone back into his pocket.

     “What’s up?”  Brendon asked him, continuing to finish off what Jon had left behind on his plate. 

     “That was Pete.  He said he wants to head back to Chicago today, and he’s planning a big party for the seniors when we get back… He sounded fine.  Better than fine, actually.”

     “He’s lying,” Gabe said abruptly and angry, and the group stared at him, “what? It’s true.  There’s no way he’s totally fine.  You’ll see.”

\---

     “He’s totally fine,” Gabe whispered to William, “how is that even possible?”  Pete was literally bouncing from room to room helping everyone pack up, laughing and joking with everyone and calling his parents to let them know he was coming home early.  He didn’t even seem to mind that they were in Beijing, which was strange because Pete hated when they were away. 

     “I have an extra spot in my car,” Pete announced happily when they were packing their bags away into their respective cars, “who wants to ride?”  Gabe looked miserably over to Bill who was stuffing his last suitcase into the trunk.

    “I’m in,” Jon called over to him, and Spencer nodded for him to go join Pete, receiving a kiss for it.  Pete grinned at him, “thanks, Smith.  I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”  He winked at Jon and jumped into the driver’s seat, and Gabe rolled his eyes, scowling as he slammed the trunk of Bill’s car closed. 

     “Just us, then,” Brendon said nervously and watched his ally get into Pete’s car, “alright. Let’s go.”  Spencer waved to Jon before he attempted to climb into the back of the van but Brendon tossed Spencer his keys, suddenly.  Jon tried to hide his smile in his scarf at the sight of his best friend making an effort to befriend Spencer while Pete fiddled with the radio.

      Spencer stared down at the key and its California and Vegas keychains and then back to Brendon. 

     “Take the first half.  I’m too beat to drive right now,” he said as he pulled open the sliding door to the backseat.  Spencer just nodded and got into the driver’s seat, not wanting to question it. He knew how much Brendon loved his van, and the fact that he was letting someone else drive it meant something. Since finding Brendon and Ryan sharing a bed that morning and now the show of good faith towards him, Spencer didn’t want to mess up a good thing.  Brendon climbed into the large backseat and Ryan shot Spencer his ‘what the hell look’ over the hood before jumping into the passenger seat.

      Moments later everyone was pulling out of the driveway to follow Pete back to Chicago, who was absolutely breaking speed limits.  Gabe didn’t speak, only stared out the window and William remained silent, too, focusing on the license plate of Pete’s car.  Spencer drove behind Bill, the radio playing some mixed CD while Brendon dozed off in the backseat.  Hayley, Greta, Andy and Travis followed them, keeping the purple van in sight.

     About two hours into the drive home Gabe’s phone rang.  He glanced down and frowned at Patrick’s name, but answered it anyway, “hello?” 

     “Gabe,” Patrick sounded hoarse, but Gabe didn’t care, he was still mad at him, “I was just calling to tell you that I got into NYU’s music program.  I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he laughed lightly.  Gabe glared through his window as though Patrick could see him, “good for you.” 

     “Gabe,” Patrick sighed, “I’m – I’m not trying to piss anyone off -.”

     “You shouldn’t have taken off,” Gabe cut him off angrily.  Bill glanced quickly over to him, and he knew exactly who Gabe was talking to, but Gabe waved his attention away.  He could deal with Patrick on his own.

     “You don’t know what -.”

     “I know all I need to know.  You fucked up.”  Patrick was silent on the other end.  “Listen, we’re on the road back to Chicago -.”

     “How is he?” Patrick asked, and Gabe looked over to Bill who was staring at him the best he could while driving. 

     “He’s great, planning a party when we get back actually.  Gotta go.” Gabe jabbed the end button on his phone and ignored William shaking his head.

     “You shouldn’t have done that.  It’s none of your fucking business.”  Gabe rolled his eyes, “it was made my business when I had to deal with the fall out.”  Bill snorted, “You aren’t the only one who had to deal with it, and Pete’s not the only one who’s a mess.  Can you imagine how bad Patrick has to feel for him to have just left?  They both fucked up and now you have too.”

     Gabe watched the cars pass by next to him, silently.  He didn’t care if he hurt Patrick’s feelings… not really, anyway.  He shifted in the bucket seat of Bill’s car.

     “We should keep out of it.  How would you like it if someone was interfering in our relationship?”   Gabe shrugged William’s question off.

      “I wouldn’t fuck up that badly.”

     “I might,” William said.  Gabe glared at him, “don’t joke like that.”

      “I’m not joking.  It would piss you off if someone treated you the way you’re treating Patrick.  Knock it off.”  Gabe adjusted in his seat again, leaning further back, “whatever.”  William opened his mouth to say something, but Gabe turned up the radio.  He didn’t want to hear it.

\---

     “Alright, what the hell is up with you two?”  Brendon looked over from his spot in the driver’s seat to Spencer next to him.  Ryan had claimed the backseat after Brendon had woken up and resumed driving.

     “What are you talking about?” Ryan asked him, nervous.

     “Don’t play dumb, if the past few breakfasts haven’t been enough, you guys are hanging out, not only without killing each other, but without any scathing remarks and that’s fucking weird,” Spencer added quickly, “but not unwelcome.  So what’s up?” 

     Brendon looked at Ryan through the rearview mirror, waiting for him to speak, “we’ve called a truce because you and Jon have gotten closer.”

     “Bullshit,” Spencer laughed, “you didn’t start sharing a bed because of us.” 

     Ryan looked up, surprised, “you saw that?”

     “Jon and I walked in on you the other day, but we didn’t need that to notice that Brendon wasn’t sleeping on the couch anymore.  Answer the question.”

      “Well,” Ryan stumbled, “uh, we – that one night – I went out to get my -.”

     “Ryan and I apologized for being assholes to each other and now we’re trying to be civil.  Trying being the key word.  Simple as that,” Brendon interrupted Ryan’s failing explanation and he was grateful for it.  Spencer turned in his seat to look at Ryan, and Ryan nodded his most convincing nod.  Spencer gave him an unimpressed look, but seemed to buy it anyway or at least, he didn’t want to argue with them.

     “Alright, so no more beating the shit out of each other, then?”  Brendon shook his head and Ryan squeaked out a “no”.

     “Good, I was getting tired of taking care of Ryan after he has his ass handed to him,” Spencer said happily, and Ryan kicked the back of Spencer’s seat, “dude!”  

     Brendon snorted, deciding to offer up his own story, “that’s not that bad.  One time, sophomore year, your bony elbow caught the side of my head,” he laughed, “and I ended up with a concussion.  Jon had to take me to the hospital in the middle of fifth period, hoping my grams wouldn’t find out. She did though, and I nearly got another ass beating.”  Spencer laughed loudly next to him while changing out CDs, “I remember that! You walked away like a badass though,” he said, “Ryan was down for like, ten minutes after you left.”

     “Spencer!” Ryan hissed kicking the back of his seat again, wanting them to stop. 

     “That’s nothing!” Brendon said, ignoring Ryan, “what about that time last year when he pushed me into the fountain at the park, and I was almost arrested for ‘taking a swim’. It was the only excuse I could think of!”  Spencer was turning bright red, laughing until he couldn’t breathe while Ryan glared at him, sure another shot was on its way. 

     “What about,” Spencer wheezed, “what about that time when you pushed Ryan onto the football field during a game and the coach said,” he laughed harder, “he said, ‘no cheerleaders on the field!’.”  Brendon laughed along with Spencer and Ryan sunk down into his seat.  He had never counted on Brendon and Spencer becoming besties on this damn trip.

     “That was hilarious!”  Brendon said after a moment, “I think that was one of the funnier fights.”  Spencer nodded along, “yeah, half of them were funny, the other half were -.” Spencer cut himself off as his and Brendon’s laughter trailed off.  Spencer saw a shining opportunity to get away when he spotted the sign for the gas station, “I need to pee,” he announced as he made a call to Pete to stop at the next exit.

     Brendon pulled into the parking spot closest to the door and watched Spencer jump out to greet Jon.  They walked inside together followed by Hayley and Greta.  Pete hopped out of his car, stretching and waving to them, and on the other side of them, Travis and Andy watched Bill get out of his car and slam the door behind him before taking off inside.  Gabe walked over to Pete, huffing about something, gesturing like a madman.  Brendon watched the commotion around him until Spencer and Jon finally came back into view at the cash register.

     “I’m sorry about the concussion,” Ryan spoke up.  Brendon lifted his eyes to meet Ryan’s in the rearview mirror, “sorry about the cheerleader thing.”  Ryan shrugged, smiling slightly, ready to tell him that it had been kind of funny.

    But before Ryan could respond, Jon was outside Brendon’s window.  He held the sour gummies against the window smiling and Brendon rolled it down to retrieve them, “thanks dude.  I’m starved.”  Jon grinned brightly at him around half of his candy bar, “I figured.  Here’s a coke too.  Ryan,” Jon glanced in the back, “did you want anything?”  Ryan shook his head but thanked Jon for the offer.

     “Alright, let’s go!  I’m tired of being stuck in this purple monstrosity,” Spencer said as he met up with them.  “Hey!” Brendon yelled, but they ignored him.  “Oh, and Jon, they aren’t fucking, but things are okay now,” Spencer said to Jon as he opened the passenger door, and Jon nodded while Brendon and Ryan gaped at Spencer.  He looked over at them as he slid into the van, “what?”

     “Jon knows?” Brendon said.

      “You thought we were sleeping together?” Ryan echoed.  Spencer rolled his eyes, “of course Jon knows.” 

     Jon grinned, “I love being me.  Everyone tells me everything.  I am never want for gossip,” he said dramatically. Brendon rolled his eyes and flipped him off, rolling his window back up.  As soon as Spencer was in the car and Jon had joined back up with Pete, they pulled out of the gas station and headed home.

\---

     They made it back home in record time and after dropping Ryan and Spencer off at Spencer’s house, Brendon made his way to Jon’s.  He threw open the door to Jon’s small apartment and marched inside while Jon moved slowly behind him.

     “Jon!” Brendon yelled, “Jon, living room, now!”  Jon rushed inside his apartment, expecting the worst, that he’d been robbed. He found Brendon standing in the middle of his living room. Brendon huffed and threw himself down on the couch, his face hidden by his arm.  Jon rolled his eyes, annoyed, and entered his apartment when he saw nothing of alarm, “your dramatics know no bounds, B.”  Brendon peeked out from under his arm and watched Jon pull his suitcase over to the bed.

     “I have a problem,” he groaned.  Jon laughed loudly, “I know.”

     “Fuck you, this is a real problem.”  Jon sighed, wiping his hand over his face, “alright, let’s hear it.”  Brendon popped into a sitting position, “so, Ryan -.”

     “Jesus Christ,” Jon rubbed his eyes roughly, “that’s what this is about?”  Brendon looked at him, surprised and nodded.  “Okay, I realize I am the only sane one left in the entire group of people we know, but really?  One, I know what you’re going to say.  Two, he feels the same.  Three, tell him, not me.”  Brendon glared up at him with no real heat because Jon was right, of course, and Brendon just needed to get over himself and tell Ryan.


	12. Chapter 12

**January 2013**

            Pete’s party was rapidly becoming the social event of the year.  Pete didn’t normally have parities of his own; he just went to William’s and left any actual planning to him, so when word of Pete’s Senior Blowout got out (see: Pete sending out a mass text), no one could wait to party at the infamous Wentz household.  Not many had been inside the enormous mansion and the possibilities of what it was like inside was endless. Gabe had likened the event to a Gatsby party, which Pete had brushed off. It wasn’t like he was throwing a massive party to gain the attention of a single person.

            Pete wandered through the house trying to keep his mind on his party and not on other things.  As he juggled some of the more valuable items from the living room, he moved slowly upstairs, walked into his parents’ room and made a note to make sure he locked the door before the party.  He did not need any horny teenagers humping on his parents’ bed, especially when he was keeping the fact that he was having a party from them. His parents were cool and all, but he knew they wouldn’t like it if he destroyed their house by inviting a bunch of teenagers over. He grimaced at the thought and emptied his hands of everything onto the bed, and as he turned around, he caught sight of it.  On the wall, hanging next to the dresser and the door to the hallway, was a photo of his parents standing behind one of the benches in their backyard.  In front of them were young Pete and Patrick, probably around twelve years old.  His mom had loved this picture in particular because instead of being the perfect family photo, it showed Susan with a hand on her hip and the other waving in the air as she and Peter argued about something.  Pete was smiling broadly with Patrick tugged into a headlock, half of his face hidden in the crook of Pete’s elbow.

            Pete didn’t cry, and he didn’t get emotional.  He just shut his parents’ door behind him and moved back downstairs.  It was obvious he’d forgotten something, and as he passed the mantel above the fireplace, he became aware of just how many pictures of Patrick were in his house.  Pete hadn’t even noticed when Patrick had become so integrated into his and his parents’ lives.  He reached up and took four of the six frames off the mantel and moved into the den, knowing he’d have to replace the photos before his parents got home, but right now, he needed them out of the living room.

            He needed to purge and as it was, out of sight, (hopefully) out of mind.

\---

            Ryan wasn’t quite sure how to bring up such a touchy subject to his parents, especially his mother, as he clutched his freshman yearbook close to his chest and climbed downstairs to where his mother sat in the living room.  Now that he was back home, and he and Brendon were on better terms, he thought it was time to find out who exactly had ruined everything for him back then.  A part of him was relieved that it wasn’t Brendon, but another part didn’t want to know who it really was, not after all the years of fighting with the wrong person.

            His mom was folding towels on the couch while she watched an episode of Ellen.  He almost laughed at how accepting his mother had become since his return home after coming out.  She glanced up at him when he entered and smiled at him, “you’re home early.  Everything alright?” 

            “Yeah, we had a good time, but Pete got into it with Patrick and it was really dramatic, so here we are.”  He took a seat in his dad’s recliner and watched Ellen pull people out of the audience and onto the stage for some game involving a gigantic spinning wheel.

            “Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” she smiled and looked at the book in Ryan’s arms.  “Are you and Spencer feeling nostalgic? That’s the second time I’ve seen that yearbook out.”  Ryan shifted uncomfortably, “yeah, something like that.”  His mother paused while folding and set the towel down.

            “Do you need to talk to me about something?”  He nodded and she sighed, sitting on the edge of the couch, her knees brushing the arm of the recliner, “honey, does this have something to do with you being gay? I don’t know how many times I can apologize for our ignorance.  We were wrong to make you leave this house, and I cannot tell you how much I regret what happened.  You are my son and I love you.  I don’t care who you like or love or marry.  You are my blood and that is all that matters.”  Ryan shook his head, happy to hear her acceptance, but he needed to talk to her about something else.

            “I know, mom, that’s not,” he paused, “that’s not what this is about.”  She frowned at him but didn’t speak.  “I need to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get upset.”  He held the yearbook up for her to hold and flipped it open to the start of the freshmen class.  “I need to know who came to the house – who told you about me.”  His mother stared at him, “Ryan-.”

            “I know you don’t want to keep talking about this and neither do I, but I just need to know this one thing.”  She sighed heavily again but began scanning down the pages.  She flipped through two full pages before she stopped, frowning. 

            “That’s him,” she said, her finger hovering over a picture, “Tyson Ritter.”

\---

            Patrick hadn’t received the mass text about the party, but he wasn’t stupid, and he knew all about it thanks to Gabe’s constant tweets.  After the sixth buzz about Pete’s “party of the fucking year”, he had turned off all notifications from any social media site he may have frequented.  He was just waiting for the phone calls from Gabe to start pouring in again, but so far he’d heard nothing – at least nothing sent directly to him for his eyes only. He knew that Gabe was posting continuously to get his attention.

            He pushed his bedroom door closed behind him and moved into the living room where his dad sat on the couch.  “Reruns, again?”  His dad laughed.

            “Not this time.  Just some movie your mother likes,” he glanced toward the kitchen and lowered his voice, “I didn’t want to fight her on it; I’ve got a headache.”  Patrick smiled at him and moved to the side when his mother passed by with two full glasses of tea in her hands.

            “Hey, do you want to join us?” she asked.  Patrick shook his head, “no offense but I’m not a big fan of... whatever you’re watching.”  His mom rolled her eyes, “well, your loss.  Your father and I will enjoy it without you.”  Patrick stifled a snort when his father looked at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he shrugged and began backing out of the room.

            “Why don’t you go visit Pete, then?  I’m sure he’s lonely in that big house of his while Susan and Peter are gone,” his mom suggested.  Patrick wanted to tell his parents that he and Pete were not on speaking terms, and that they hadn’t fought this much in their entire friendship.  Instead, he said, “yeah.  I guess.  I’ll see you guys later.”  His dad watched him suspiciously, but Patrick darted into his room and grabbed his wallet and his mother’s car keys before running out the door.

            Of course he wasn’t going to Pete’s, but he could spend the rest of his day downtown, especially at the record store.  There he could submerse himself in music, ignore Gabe’s updates, and his own stupid brain – it wouldn’t shut up.

\---

            When Patrick wandered into the record store on Moserly Street, he was immediately greeted by Nate who owed the place.  Patrick thought it might be bad how often he frequented this place if the entire staff knew him by name.  He waved to Nate and moved to the right side of the store where Nate would keep all the “new to the store” records.  Just as he was passing over the third Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” his hand bumped into someone else’s.

            “Brendon, hey,” he said when he caught sight of the other boy.  He was surprised to run into him, but he didn’t know why because if anyone else was as addicted to buying vinyl as he was, it was Brendon.

            “Hey, man,” he said awkwardly, “how’s it going?”  Patrick had to make an effort not to roll his eyes at Brendon’s obvious discomfort.

            “Everything is fine.  What about you?  I can see that you and Ryan managed not to kill each other on the way back,” he said trying to ignore the uneasiness Brendon was giving off., and he chuckled and bent his head back over the stacks.

            “Yeah, we’re attempting a civil relationship,” he laughed as if surprised by the idea.  “Too many people have gotten caught in the crossfire to believe us, but it’s true.  As long as he doesn’t try to piss me off, things should be fine.  Jon wants us to go with him and Spencer to Pete’s…”  Brendon trailed off and sighed, “I’m sorry, dude.  I didn’t mean to -.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Patrick said quickly, “I know about the party and mine and Pete’s problems shouldn’t interfere with anyone else.” 

            “You might not mean to, but your friends will be affected,” Brendon said placing and old Pink Floyd album back into the stacks, “trust me, I know.” 

            “Pete and I aren’t you and Ryan, Bren.  We haven’t been beating the hell out of each other for four years.”

            “No, just recently, right?”  Brendon snapped at him suddenly, “we all saw the bruises you two left on each other a few months ago, and you can take it from me, it doesn’t fix anything.” 

Patrick’s teeth ground together and he glared, “what we do is none of your business.  Just because you and Ryan made your fights public doesn’t mean we will.  And why in the fuck is everyone taking Pete’s side?  What did I fucking do?” He hissed, trying to keep his voice quiet.

            “It’s what you’re not doing!” He shouted, and he glanced at Nate who looked away quickly when they made eye contact. He lowered his voice, “Pete is in love with you.  I don’t know how that has escaped your notice, but since I met you two, I could tell.  Every time he thinks he’s getting somewhere with you, you cut him off and it’s twisted. He is borderline obsessed with you, and right now, no one can see why.  You’re fucking better than all this petty fighting.”  Patrick stared at Brendon, wide-eyed; he couldn’t think of a time when Brendon had ever been this tactless with him.

            “You’re one to talk Brendon,” he growled, “if you want to start spreading blame then start with yourself.  The only reason you were so pissed off at Ryan after all this time is because even after that party, even after the fighting, you fell in love with him.  You fell for him while he was kicking your ass. So who here is really twisted?”  He whipped around and stormed out the store door.  As soon as the frigid air hit his skin, he realized what a dick he’d sounded like, but instead of going back in and apologizing, he rushed away down the street towards his mother’s car.  He wasn’t the only one in the wrong, and Brendon had no right to say those things to him.  Not only had Gabe torn into him about Pete being “in love” with him, but now Brendon, too.  No one knew what the fuck they were talking about.  Pete was not – absolutely not – in love with him.

\---

            When the Thursday of Pete’s party rolled around, Bill called Gabe early in the morning and told him to be ready by eleven.  He wanted to stop by Pete’s early and make sure he was ready for the night ahead, but when they pulled up in front of Pete’s, Bill saw that he was not needed at all.  Pete stood outside with Dirty, an older guy who worked as a bouncer in the local venues where Fall Out Boy had played, while a couple of burly dudes (probably Dirty’s friends) lugged blank cardboard cases up the front steps.  Pete pulled a thick stack of bills out of his pocket and began counting it out into Dirty’s hand.  Bill had never seen Pete so flippant with money before, and he and Gabe remained by their car until Dirty and his buddies pulled out of the driveway.

            “Hey guys,” Pete said without looking at them and walking inside.  Bill shot Gabe a look to see if he thought this was all weird or not, but he was already walking past him, following Pete to the kitchen.  “What’s in the cases?”

            Pete grinned and pulled beer can out of the nearest box of which there were many, "just refreshments.”

            “Jesus, Pete, there’s got to be three hundred cans here!”

            “Three hundred and sixteen,” Pete corrected and when the doorbell rang, he took off towards the door again, “help with the pizza?”  Gabe finally looked at Bill and confirmed his earlier question that this _was_ weird.  They met up with Pete at his door and picked up piles of boxes to take back to the kitchen while Pete paid the pizza man.

            “Since when does Pete use his parents’ money to party – or even at all?” Gabe whispered to him, but Bill had no answer.  There was only one thing that William could think of that would cause Pete to act this way, and there was no way in hell he was bringing Patrick up now.

                                                                        ---

            Brendon was still fuming when he left the record store. He had never thought Patrick was capable of cutting him down that way, despite the fact that he’d been kind of an ass himself. When he had been introduced to him and Pete, he couldn’t believe what an absolute marshmallow Patrick was, especially when Pete was so in-your-face.

**December 2009**

            Brendon nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Jon led him to their new lunch table.  He could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria on him, and it made him want to hide in the bathroom. He knew he would never live William’s party down. When the glasses were firmly against his cheekbones, he felt the remnants of the bruise Ryan had left there last week, and he winced. Speaking of Ryan… He didn’t want to look at that side of the room, but he couldn’t help himself. He could only see the back of Ryan’s head, which was bent over his lunch tray, but Spencer was watching him – or more so Jon and him – with narrowed eyes. There was group around them that Brendon didn’t really recognize, but he remembered the redheaded and blonde girls from the party. He looked away as Jon stopped at a table in front of him.

            “Bren, this is Pete, Gabe, Patrick, William, Vicky, Joe, and Andy.” He took in the familiar faces, and smiled anxiously at them. They had only met briefly at the party, which he was kind of happy about because of what a disaster it had been, and he found that he still couldn’t look William in the eyes. It had been his house, after all.

            “Hey,” he said quietly with a small wave, which he regretted instantly; why was he waving? They saw him, obviously. They knew he was there.

            “Hey, you’re that guy fr- OW!” Pete shouted and glared at the boy across from him. Brendon was grateful for the interruption because Pete either knew him as the naked kid from the party or the freak who had eavesdropped on him and Ryan in the bathroom.

            “Ignore Pete. He has no filter, but he means well,” Patrick smiled up at him. “Sit down,” he said moving over on the bench, pushing Gabe and Vicky further down, “Jon told me you’re a musician?” Brendon shot Jon a look, but he was already sitting next to Pete watching him build a structure with his food.

            “I mean, I mess around with some instruments and stuff, but it’s no big deal,” he said as he took the offered seat. Jon interrupted without looking away from Pete’s chicken finger building.

            “He’s lying. I’ve been to his house, and he plays like, eight instruments, and he sings like a motherfucker.” Pete snorted next to him.

            “Sorry, B, but no one is better than the Trickster.”

            “Loki?” Brendon frowned, unsure what mythology had to do with singing.

            “No, I’m Trickster, or Trick, or any other name Pete decides to call me. He has a way of making nicknames stick.”

            “So you sing, too?” Patrick nodded and stole the coke off Pete’s tray to take a sip.

            “Yeah, and I play a few things. Are you thinking about taking some music classes while you’re here? I can probably talk to Mr. Gregore and get you into our vocal class if you want to, even if it’s late in the semester.” Brendon’s eyes widened; he was so not ready for that. The idea of singing by himself in front of other people made him sick to his stomach.

            “Actually, I think I’m going to stick with band or something,” he said shaking his head, “I play a lot of string instruments, and the cello is my favorite. It’s what I want to focus on in college, I think.” Patrick brightened at the mention of the cello.

            “That’s my next instrument!” he said excitedly.

            “Your next instrument?” He asked curiously. Pete spoke up again, finally tearing his eyes away from his and Jon’s lunch creation.

            “I don’t mean to brag, but I – who am I kidding? I always brag about this angel,” he dramatically leaned over pinching Patrick’s cheek. Patrick turned red and pushed his red cap hopelessly down on his head. “This guy is a musical genius. You name it, he can do it. After he learns one instrument, he moves on to another. He’s at five now,” he smiled brightly. Brendon turned his widened eyes on Patrick only to see him shaking his head.

            “Don’t do that,” he mumbled.

            “There will never be a day that I don’t tell everyone about the majestic Patrick Motherfucking Stump,” Pete said offhandedly, and so casually that it told Brendon that this was nothing new for them.

            “Oh,” Brendon said, realizing why they seemed so in sync now, “how long have you guys been together?” Patrick’s head snapped in his direction, but Pete answered.

            “We’ve been together for nine years,” he said, but Patrick shook his head at his friend’s obliviousness.

            “We’re not a couple. We’re best friends. William is Pete’s boyfriend,” he said quickly, and Brendon cringed; he hated making an ass of himself, but Gabe’s sudden coughing fit drew attention away from his mistake.

            “We are more than friends! We are best friends, life partners, bananas and peanut butter,” Pete all but shouted at Patrick, “we’re stuck with each other. Get used to it, sugar.” As he finished his rant, William leaned over from his place across from Gabe and stuck himself in front of Pete.

            “I may be the boyfriend, but I know who comes first here,” he said without any hint of anger, which surprised Brendon. He thought it was weird that William was so cool with Pete and Patrick’s obviously intense relationship. Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were pretty much in love with each other, but then again, what did he know about people and their feelings?

**January 2013**

            Brendon found his van parked several blocks away from the record store, and stopped when he saw Spencer and Jon across the street. They were looking at the movie times listed outside of the theater, and Brendon was unsure if he should interrupt them on what seemed to be a date. He put his bag from the record store on his passenger seat, and began to round his van when Jon made his decision for him.

            “Hey! Bren,” Jon was standing with one arm straight in the air and Spencer tucked into his side, avoiding the windy chill of the air. Brendon waved back, and waited as the other two crossed the wet and salted street.

            “Hey, what’s up?” Brendon noticed that they had to have been walking around outside for a while given their rosy cheeks and noses. Spencer had his scarf wrapped all the way up to cover his ears and shrunk his head down to burrow even further, and Jon’s beanie was covered in melting snow.

            “We’re wasting some time before Pete’s tonight. You’re still coming?” Jon asked him. Brendon shrugged and pulled his coat tighter around him as the wind picked up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go after his run in with Patrick, and all he could think about was what he had said about him and Ryan. Were they twisted? Was this truce they were attempting just going to end with even more animosity than before? Spencer poked his head out from his scarf.

            “You should,” he said, “Pete’s been going on and on about how this year is our last together, and he’s right. Most of us are leaving after graduation.” He knew Spencer was right, that he shouldn’t let Patrick’s words affect him. He knew the things they’d both said were out of anger – no matter how true they were.

            “Yeah, I’ll come, but I probably won’t stay the whole time,” he conceded, and Jon clapped his hand down on Brendon’s back.

            “Awesome! We’ll see you around nine?” Brendon nodded, and they parted ways. As he climbed into his van and blasted the heat, which took far too long to warm up, he started thinking about graduation. Jon was leaving for California, and Spencer seemed to be planning to head that way, too. Ryan, Gabe, and Patrick were bound for New York – everyone had their shit together. They knew what they wanted to do, but he was unsure. What if Berkley didn’t want him? He had no Plan B, and no one to follow to the other side of the country because he was so in love. He frowned, pulling out of his parking spot and onto the empty road. He’d go, and he’d have as good a time as he could.

                                                                        ---

            William watched as a semi-drunk Pete practically floated from group to group at his party. There were easily a hundred plus people packed into Pete’s house, and it seemed to be his mission to ensure that each and every person had a great time. William knew this had to be a front because no one was this on all the time, but Pete never let the smile fall from his face while he continuously made his rounds. And Gabe, much to his disappointment, was next to him enabling his “fun”. William was pushed into the side of the couch with the other four people that had decided to sit down. He was nursing the same warm beer he’d had since eight when the party officially started. He glanced at his phone to see that it was now nine fifteen. Gabe slid onto the arm of the couch next to him and threw back his fourth beer.

            “Hello, lover,” he smiled deviously at him and William smiled with less enthusiasm but returned his eyes to Pete quickly. He was worried about him, more so than he’d ever been. Sure Pete and Patrick had fought before, but never to this extent. Pete’s self-destructive behavior was evident to him, and he had hoped that the others would notice – only they didn’t seem to. Travis had allowed him to push drink after drink into his hands; Joe and Andy seemed overjoyed with his attitude and partied hard with him; the girls had been swept up in his go with the flow attitude, and he was pretty sure that Greta, the most sensible person he knew, had danced with him on the dining room table. Surprisingly, Ryan was the only one who refused to let Pete “force the party on him”, and Brendon had been slightly avoiding Pete all night, possibly afraid that Pete would decide he wasn’t having enough fun.

He glanced over to the staircase where he saw Brendon, and decided to join a fellow “party-pooper”.  Pushing himself from between some girl from his British Literature class and Gabe, he moved from the couch and through the crowd to the stairs. Ryan was leaning against the wall with Spencer, talking to a group of people he vaguely recognized from past classes. Spencer noticed him first, “hey,” he said quietly, “can you believe this party? Pete is insane.” William snorted internally. Spencer had no idea.

“Yeah, it’s something…” he trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic of Patrick without seeming desperate to talk about him.

“I knew he wouldn’t be, but I was convinced that Patrick was going to be here,” Spencer said, saving William from his dilemma, “Jon and I ran into him downtown today.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Ryan said as his group left and he joined their conversation, and Spencer nodded.

“Well, we didn’t really talk,” he said leaning against the wall again, “he was power walking down Main Avenue when we decided to go to a movie. He seemed upset, though.” William wanted to roll his eyes, _of course Patrick is upset!_ “Or, not so much upset as incredibly pissed off.”

“I hate this,” William admitted, “I hate that he and Pete are fighting. I hate that we are all here, and Patrick is alone. I hate that Pete is a fucking parody of himself right now.”

“Maybe someone should go see how he is...” Ryan offered, but was shot down by Spencer.

“If I know anything about Patrick it’s that he hates pity. If we show up at his house, he’ll know we’re there because we feel bad,” he said, finishing his beer, “besides, the only person who can fix this is Pete, and as we can see-,” he nodded toward the other boy who was enthusiastically dancing with Joe, “he’s not going anywhere soon.” William groaned.

“This is bullshit. We need to lock them in a fucking room together and wait it out,” he growled, and Ryan laughed.

“Not the best idea. They may kill each other,” he said, and William cringed. Ryan would know beat, he supposed.

“He can’t keep this up forever. Eventually, they’ll realize how stupid they’re being and this whole thing will be a bad memory,” Spencer said as he headed toward the kitchen. Maybe he was right; William just had to wait for something to bring them together.

\---

After downing another shot, forced on him by one very giggly Greta, Spencer found Ryan lounging around the formal dining room on his own, “hey, why are you all alone in here?” Ryan turned around and shrugged a little, smiling at his stumbling friend.

“Just thinking.”

Spencer hummed and fell into one of the dining chairs next to him, “thinkin’ ‘bout what?”  Ryan laughed a little, not wanting to tell him and ruin the good mood Spencer was obviously in.

“Not much,” he said, “nothing that can’t wait until you’re sober.” Spencer made a loud ‘pfff’ sound and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and turning his head fully toward Ryan.

“I’m only tipsy,” he smiled, “so, what’s up?” Ryan sighed and moved in his own chair so that he faced his best friend.

“I talked to my mom about who outed me,” he said and Spencer’s demeanor changed instantly.

“What? What did she say? Did she know who it was? Who was it?”

“Spencer! Calm down,” he said, shaking his head, “I showed her my yearbook and she pointed him out to me.” Spencer was holding his breath, waiting for Ryan to spit it out already. “She said it was Tyson Ritter.” Spencer launched out of his chair.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ll kill him. I’ll actually murder him.” Ryan attempted to soothe him, but Spencer continued, “I’m going to be a doctor! Think of all the lives I’ll save in the future! It’ll balance out in the long run.” Ryan laughed, and pulled on Spencer’s sleeve to force him back into his seat.

“I appreciate that you’d kill someone for me, but it’s not necessary. I don’t even want to say anything to him. I just want to put it all behind me,” he told Spencer, “I’m just glad that I finally know the truth.” Spencer huffed and sat back in his seat.

“You can’t let him get away with it,” he said, but Ryan just shook his head.

“It’s done, nothing I can change about it,” he leaned into Spencer’s space and hugged him. “Don’t do anything to him, okay?” Spencer grumbled against his shoulder but he nodded anyway. “Thank you,” Ryan said as he pulled away, “now what do you say we get you another drink and enjoy the rest of this ridiculous party?” Spencer was still frowning when Ryan pulled him up and led him to the kitchen, but as soon as he had another cup in his hand and Jon joined them, Spencer had moved on from their conversation. Ryan glanced over to the island in the kitchen where Brendon and Hayley were talking in low tones, occasionally sipping their drinks, and he smiled. He could just put the whole thing behind him and focus on his newfound friendship with his ex-enemy.


	13. Chapter 13

**January 2013**

            When Patrick finally made it home, it was well past eight and he was all too aware of the fact that everyone he knew was at Pete’s having the time of their lives. He was no longer angry at Brendon; in fact, he’d almost called and texted him multiple times to apologize, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He never stood up for himself that way because Pete had always been there to do it for him. He huffed as he put the key in his front door, and went inside only to be met by his father.

            “Dad?” He asked, watching his dad zip his coat. The man looked over to him and smiled, but it quickly fell from his face.

            “What’s wrong?” Patrick shook his head, not wanting to talk about it.

            “Are you leaving?”

            “Yes, I got called into work. They have no sense of time, the damn slave-drivers. Don’t avoid the question, what’s wrong?” He came closer, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. Tears threatened to fall and a lump rose in Patrick’s throat.

            “I really can’t talk right now, dad,” he strained to say. His father’s eyes weighed on him, but instead of speaking, he pulled Patrick into a firm hug. He pulled away after Patrick had collected himself.

            “Take your time. I’m here for you, son,” he said backing away and placing his hand on the doorknob, “we’ll have a long talk when I get back, okay?” He smiled once more and Patrick nodded.

            “Love you,” he said as the older man left.

            “Me too,” he said, “see you soon.” And he was out the door. Patrick waited until he heard the sound of his dad’s car engine before moving toward his bedroom. He just needed to sleep the day off. When he made it to his room, he stripped off his hat, coat, and scarf, and pulled out some pajamas. He could hear the TV in his parents’ room buzzing with a commercial for laundry detergent, and the shower in the master bedroom running.  When he was in his comfortable clothes, he slid into his bed, pulling the comforter over his head, and it wasn’t long before his eyes fell shut.

                                                                        ---

            “Patrick! Patrick, will you get -.” His eyes flickered open when he heard his mother calling him repeatedly. The phone was ringing shrilly, and his clock said it was only ten twenty at night. He fumbled out of bed to grab the phone, but his mother must have beaten him to it. He sleepily moved down the stairs and into the kitchen where his mother was leaning over the sink, with the phone cradled in the crook of her shoulder, and her pink bathrobe opened to show her pajamas. Her thick hair was still a little damp from her shower, and Patrick could only see her back; he rubbed his eyes hoping to scrub out the blur of sleep. He was going to call out to her when she changed suddenly. Her back went tense and hands became rigid, and the phone began to slip slowly from her shoulder in what looked comically like slow motion. He found himself by her side, and he grabbed the fallen phone from the counter. His mother’s eyes stared at the sink faucet without focus.

            “Hello? Mrs. Stump? Are you still there, Mrs. Stump?” Patrick pulled the phone to his ear.

            “Hello?”

            “Mrs. Stump?” The man asked again, confused.

            “No, this is Patrick, her son.” He heard the man on the other end breathe heavily.

            “Patrick, I’m Dr. Foster from St. Joseph’s Hospital. I work with your mother in the emergency room,” he paused, “I am so sorry to tell you that your father passed away at ten o’clock tonight. He was in the break room when one of the doctors found him. He suffered an aneurysm, but I want you to know that he likely felt no pain…” Patrick heard the man’s voice continue until it faded out in static. He hadn’t said what he thought he’d said. They had the wrong man, obviously, because his dad was fine, the perfect picture of health. He had been alive when he left, so he had to be alive now. Patrick looked at his mother who was now staring at him in horror, her eyes wide and dry and unblinking.

             “Thank you,” he called quietly into the phone before hanging up.

             “Mom,” he whispered, waiting for her to tell him it was a mistake, and she pulled her hand over her mouth and slid slowly to sit on the kitchen floor. Patrick watched her before he calmly sat beside her, still not processing what he just heard. His dad had said that they would talk when he got back, so he had to come back. Hi dad didn’t break promises. A sob escaped from his mother’s mouth, muffled by her hand, and she reached blindly for him. He allowed her to pull him close, but he couldn’t feel her arm around him. She continued to cry and Patrick knew it was the most heartbreaking sound he’d ever heard and would ever hear again. He wasn’t sure how long he sat with her when the thunder began rolling. The forecast had called for an icy rain with snow and possibly hail, and the wind picked up outside until it howled.

            Suddenly, his mother pulled away and wiped her eyes, taking several deep breaths. She began to weakly push herself from the floor, “there is so much I need – I should call the family. And there will be arrangements, and I should be at the hospital, Patrick…” She trailed off and more tears spilled as she gripped the counter. “Come on, baby,” she said pulling on Patrick’s hand – when had she taken his hand? – to get him on his feet. She hugged him tightly as soon as he was on his feet, whispering what he assumed were comforts and promises. She held him at arms’ length and frowned deeply, and she seemed to be moving back and forth, but he realized quickly that it was him, swaying on his feet, his knees unable to steady him. He knew she must have been frowning at him because he wasn’t crying. Why wasn’t he crying yet? She continued to breathe as she picked up the phone. “I need to call – sit at the table, sweetheart. I’ll be back in just – Do you want something?” She threw so much at him and all he could do was shake his head because he felt beyond numb. Was there something he was supposed to be doing? Should he cry? Should he throw himself into taking care of someone else like his mother was doing? She was moving at the speed of light around the kitchen now, as opposed her initial frozen reaction. He suddenly felt an intense clench in his chest when he thought about the talk he and his father were meant to have when he got home. He wouldn’t have that now. He liked the pain in his chest, though; it reminded him that he was still able to feel something. He watched his mother weepily tell the news to whoever she had called on the phone before she moved slowly into the den, the door falling closed until there was only a crack left.

            Patrick was halfway up his stairs when he realized he’d moved. He felt like he was moving on autopilot, and his mind was so foggy and confused. He passed his parents’ open door, and purposefully did not look inside. When he made it to his room, he got back into bed and closed his eyes. He just needed to wake up was all. This vivid nightmare needed to end. He squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again, but he had to still be asleep. He repeated the process over and over until he looked to the clock. It was one fifty in the morning, but that couldn’t be right. He pulled his comforter back over his head, and saw his phone lying hazardously toward the edge of the bed. Pulling it to him, he opened his messages and sent a text.

                                                                        ---

            “Don’t be a bitch, Travie!”  Vicky yelled at Travis, who was hanging over the edge of the toilet while Vicky and Pete looked on. It was already two o’clock, but to a drunk eighteen year old, it was practically midday.

             Pete laughed, “make sure he doesn’t drown in there.” He slid from the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen to see if he could find another drink. He was getting far too sober to keep up with his drunk friends, and the night was still young. He passed Gabe and Hayley dancing – or flailing- with each other to some old Blink 182 song, and he flashed a smile at them and moved through Jon, Spencer, and Ryan’s group. Brendon passed him, sweaty but smiling, and clutching a water bottle as he joined the other three. Pete felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he rounded the corner into the shockingly empty dining room; he guessed most of the people he’d invited left at some point and the party was down to about forty dedicated party-goers. He frowned, setting his empty cup on the table, pulling his phone out of his pocket. His parents didn’t normally text him, especially not in the middle of the night, and everyone he knew was at the party. Except the one who wouldn’t be texting him anyway. He pushed that away immediately. How could he maintain his no-worries façade if he was thinking about him?

            He opened the message without too much focus. He read the text, read the name, and then read both three more times before running to his front door and barely closing it behind him. The text remained open with his phone clutched in his hand as he was hit by the hard snow and wind outside, but he pushed on.

_I need you._

\---

            Patrick thought he heard his door open, but his still dry eyes were frozen on his unanswered text. He was alone, and he knew his mom needed him to be strong, but who would be strong for him? He needed his dad… He pushed the phone to the other side of the bed and closed his eyes once more. He was alone. Alone. He felt the cover push slowly over his shoulders and waited for his mother to say something. Instead a hand pushed over his hair and curled around his neck. His eyes finally opened and he thought maybe he really was going crazy because this night seemed unreal. First, he imagined losing his dad, and now, a wet and shaking Pete was sitting on his bed, cradling his head. Patrick stared at him, at his dark hair was matted to his head, and his hand was ice cold on his neck.

            “Patrick,” he exhaled, and the hand on his neck tightened further. Patrick still said nothing, but seeing how cold Pete was made him notice how much he had been sweating under his blankets. He adjusted himself to lie more on his back, trapping Pete’s hand under his neck. He watched Pete shake his head and tears fell onto his cheeks, and Patrick watched them in wonder. Pete could cry. Why couldn’t he? Why wasn’t he feeling the things he should?

            “There’s nothing – there’s nothing I can say to – I want to be here. Whatever you need, I’ll do it or say it or be it. Let me help,” he rushed out leaning closer to him, pushing his cold forehead to touch Patrick’s clammy one. He felt himself nod, and then Pete was pulling him up, and he kept pulling until he was standing, but his knees felt heavy and unused, like they had before in the kitchen. Pete led him to his bathroom and sat him on the closed lid of the toilet.

            “We need to clean you up,” he said leaning into the open shower and turning the knobs until water began to fall. He wiped his eyes roughly with his hands, clearing the tears that had fallen. “I think you might have a fever,” he said quietly, running the back of his cold hand against his forehead, “I’m not sure. Everything feels warm to me.” He grabbed the edges of Patrick’s sweaty t-shirt and pulled. Pete waited for a fight or resistance, but he was met with nothing, and Patrick allowed him to undress him, defeated. When he finally got Patrick to his underwear, he debated taking those as well, but decided to leave them. Before helping Patrick into the shower, Pete opened the cabinet under the sink to grab some towels.

            “Alright, Trick, in you go,” he murmured, helping him into the tub and setting him down in the shower stream. Pete pulled away to give him privacy, but Patrick finally spoke.

            “Stay.” He slid forward in the tub, leaving an obvious space for him. Pete knew it wasn’t a good idea. They had too much between them to go taking off clothes and sitting in warm showers together. But as he pulled off his socks and shirt, leaving his jeans, and sat down behind Patrick, he couldn’t make enough excuses for why it was wrong. Patrick remained unmoving in front of him, and Pete decided to do what felt right, not what was right. He pulled the other boy into his chest and leaned back to rest against the lip of the tub. They stayed that way, with Pete occasionally turning up the water’s heat, for a long time.

            When the water finally went cold, Pete pushed the knobs down with his foot. He was ready to move Patrick up and wrap him in a towel when he noticed him shaking. Then he heard the hitched breaths coming from his best friend. Patrick was crying.

                                                                                                                                      ---

          Patrick’s mom found them soon after. Pete heard her coming into Patrick’s room, and seeing the bathroom light on, she entered quietly. Pete had passed her on his way in and seeing her crying over the phone made his head hurt as he caught snippets of her conversation. She saw him and was immediately up and walking over to him. She wrapped her arms around him, telling him what happened and then told him to go on up. He could tell she was as worried about Patrick as he was.

          Pete looked at her now, standing over them while Patrick continued to cry, his back facing her while he buried his head in his hands. The hand that was clenching her bathrobe together moved to grab the towels Pete had laid on the counter. She offered them to Pete, and nodded her thanks as she wiped her red and swollen eyes and left them alone once more. He wrapped a towel around Patrick, and pushed him slowly to sit up. Patrick wiped his face on the towel even as he continued to cry and stared at the bottom of the tub, refusing to make eye contact, but he allowed Pete to pull him up and wordlessly dry him off. Pete tucked the towel around his waist and left the bathroom quickly, his jeans dripping water as he walked. He returned moments later with a pair of dry shorts, which he handed to Patrick and then turned around.

          Patrick took his time pulling off his soaking boxers and let the towel fall to the floor before slipping on the new shorts, his crying tapering off. Pete was keeping himself busy, drying off his top half and attempting to dry his jeans by pressing the towel into the fabric. Patrick passed him when he was dressed, but he grabbed Pete’s arm, pulling him along as he went. He moved to his drawers and dug until he found a pair of Pete’s own sweatpants. He passed them to Pete and gave him the same privacy Pete had given him. He turned away and moved back to his bed, but he found he didn’t feel like getting back into it. Everything he looked at reminded him of – he looked at a picture his mother had framed of them and his father at his eighth grade graduation. Pete moved behind him and placed a hesitant hand on his bare back.

           “What can I do for you?” he asked, but Patrick had no idea. Could he bring his dad back, because that was the only thing that could possibly help? He could feel the tears begin rolling down his face steadily again, but he wanted the hard, body racking sobs from the shower instead. He’d felt something – grief, anger, denial, pain – he didn’t want this numbness again. Patrick turned away from the picture and Pete’s hand fell from his skin. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. All he wanted was his dad.

          “Patrick?” He heard his mother knock on the door. She entered, and he did his best to focus on her face, but he found it hard to see through his cloudy eyes. “He – your father – wanted to be,” she stopped, but Patrick knew what she was trying to say, “in Evanston.” That’s where his dad was from – forty minutes away. Why was she telling him this? He just – and she already wanted to put him in the ground? “We’ll need to leave in the morning and make the -.”

         “I don’t want to go anywhere,” Patrick interrupted her and surprised even himself when he spoke. It had been hours since he’d said anything, but his voice was already scratchy and uncomfortable and tight around the lump that had permanently lodged itself in his throat.

        “Patrick, honey -.”

         “No. I don’t want to go.”

         “I can’t leave you alone, Patrick, I can’t,” she said, her voice tightening along with his.

         “I could go with you two,” Pete volunteered, “or he could stay with me.” She looked at him and back to Patrick and sighed.

         “Patrick, you can’t miss your father’s …” _Funeral_. No one was willing to say it.

          “I don’t want to plan anything,” he said, and she stayed silent for a few minutes before speaking again.

          “You can stay with Pete while I’m there,” she said, “but I’ll be back to get you for the ceremony.” The ceremony. Is that what they were calling it now? Patrick nodded. His mother wrapped him in her arms again, and Pete stood by silently. He didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. He didn’t even know anyone who’d lost anyone like this… except Gabe. Gabe’s dad had died when he was thirteen, when he had been involved in a car accident coming back from the grocery store. Everyone had walked on eggshells around him for months. Even the teachers allowed his wild behavior in class, claiming he was just upset and rebellious. And Pete… losing Patrick’s dad was like losing a member of his own family. He would never see the man’s face again…

          Patrick’s mother moved away from him and came to stand in front of Pete, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I’ll be gone for no more than three days.” Her voice lowered, “take care of him for me.” Pete nodded, of course he would. When she went back to Patrick, hugging and talking to him, Pete heard his phone vibrating on Patrick’s nightstand. He picked it up and saw that he had eight missed calls and forty six missed texts. _Oh yeah_ , he thought, _I was having a party_. He opened his messages, and saw that most of them were from William.

_What happened?_

_Where are you?_

_Pete, what the fuck?_

_Why did you run out?_

_Are you okay? What’s going on?_

            And other variations of those. He had a couple from Gabe, Vicky, Ryan, and Jon, and they all asked him the same things. He sent William one text back, hoping he’d pass it along.

_I’m fine. With Patrick._

           He looked up to see that Patrick and his mom were still distracted, and he was wondering if he should interrupt or excuse himself…

            “Uhm, I think I’m going to call my – and let them know,” he fumbled. Was it rude to bring up his two alive parents when his best friend now only had one? Pete’s heart felt like it was in a vice grip. Patrick had lost his father and his mom had lost her husband, and Pete had lost – but his loss wasn’t the same. Could he be upset in front of these people who were experiencing something he imagined was so much worse? Patrick’s dad had been Pete’s second father; he’d taken the two of them on more adventures than he could count. Pete loved his own father, so much that even thinking about losing him messed Pete up, but he wanted to be like Patrick’s dad when he became a father. He was hard-working, selfless, and beyond loving and accepting. He frowned at his phone in his hands.

           “I let them know,” she said, “but I’m sure they would want to hear from you.” Pete nodded and left the two alone in Patrick’s room.

                                                                                                                                        ---

           At nearly two thirty in the morning, William began kicking the stragglers out of Pete’s house. He’d seen Pete run from the dining room, through the people in his living room, and out the front door, which he didn’t even close, and the wind and snow had begun blowing in. William went after him, he stood on the porch shouting for Pete, but the other boy never turned around as he rushed in the snow in only a t-shirt. He shuffled from foot to foot to keep warm before finally going back inside where the party was still raging on. He’d told their group what had happened and that’s when the calls and texts began. When none of them received a reply, William got increasingly worried.

           Now, with only the core crew left at Pete’s, he stared at the message on his phone, and it explained pretty much nothing.

            “So, he left like that because he just randomly decided to go to Patrick’s? I don’t think so.” Out of the twelve of them, only four were completely sober: William, Andy, Brendon, and Ryan. Travis was lying on the couch, his head on Hayley’s lap, still pale from his trip to the bathroom, and Joe was buried into the other end of the couch, his eyes drooping shut. William rolled his eyes at Spencer’s comment, and Spencer was too busy playing with the zipper on Jon’s hoodie to really be paying attention.

           “Obviously something happened before that,” Gabe smarted off, and William huffed at him. “What? I’m just saying.”

           “So Patrick called him or messaged him,” Vicky slurred from the floor, her head on Greta’s shoulder, “big deal. You knew it would happen.”

          “I don’t know. Patrick was really upset with him today,” Brendon spoke quietly, and William looked curiously at Brendon in the chair across from him.

          “You spoke to him?” Spencer asked, “You didn’t say anything earlier.” Even Jon, whose head was hanging over the back of the loveseat, sat up to look at him.

           “We ran into each other at the record store, and,” he paused, “well, we got into an argument and said some things – he wouldn’t talk to him unless he had to, believe me.”

            “Why are you being so secretive?” Gabe asked loudly, and of course, a drunken Gabe was nothing if not blunt, but then that wasn’t so different from sober Gabe. Brendon was fidgeting in his seat, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

           “It was personal,” Brendon settled with, but Gabe snorted, calling bullshit.

           “What can’t you tell us? I’m your bestie, B,” Jon giggled, and Ryan knocked Jon’s foot with his own, “what? Bren knows he can tell me anything.”

           “Nothing happened,” he lied, “I just, kinda, called him out on some stuff and he called me out on some stuff, and – yeah.”

          “Holy shit. Be more vague, Brendon, really.”

         “Gabe,” William hissed.

          “No, this is shit. Everyone is fucking lying to each other and keeping secrets, and I’m sick of it, and it’s stopping. Be fucking honest. Here, I’ll start,” Gabe said taking the final sip of his drink, “I’m going to NYU after we graduate, and I don’t know if we’ll stay together.” He looked at William as the room fell completely silent.

         “What?”

           “It’s true. We’re going to be a thousand miles away. Maybe Greta and Andy knew what they were doing, breaking it off,” he spat, while William stared at him, eyes wide. “There, your fucking turn.” He was looking a Brendon now, not seeing the way William watched him in shock.

         “I – I don’t -.”

         “Jesus Christ, just say it! Fucking say it!”

         “I told him Pete loved him,” Brendon lost it, standing quickly, “I told him how fucked up he was for pushing Pete away when he loved him back. And he told me how fucked up I was -,” he paused, looking at Gabe, who was so close to speaking again, “because I fell for Ryan even when he was kicking my ass.” Hayley gasped, and the room became impossibly and eerily silent – it seemed like no one was even breathing. Gabe’s mouth gaped now, the malice in his eyes gone.

           “Brendon,” he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h-.” Brendon stormed out, ignoring Gabe’s words, and Jon, sobering rapidly, extracted himself from Spencer as quickly as his body would let him. Spencer let him go and turned to Ryan, who was so incredibly pale that Spencer was worried he was going to pass out.

           “Ryan?” Spencer said, but Ryan was up and rushing toward the bathroom. Spencer followed him, but as he passed Gabe, he pushed into his space, causing Gabe to fall onto the edge of the couch, “you have really fucked up,” he said lowly. When Spencer made it to the bathroom, Ryan was hunched over his knees, his head balanced on one of his arms.

         “Ryan,” he said, closing the door behind him, “what the hell just happened out there?” Ryan shook his head, and Spencer squatted down behind him. “Did you know that -.”

            “No!” Ryan shouted suddenly, “I didn’t know that. How could I have known that? I thought he hated me. I hated – I thought I hated him.”

           “It’s not your fault,” Spencer said, trying to calm him, “he fought back and said things… you couldn’t just let him attack you without standing up for yourself.”

           “I started it. You know I started it. He was in that bathroom, not doing anything but hiding from me, and I started it.” He slumped back to rest against the wall.

           “So,” Spencer said as he sat down beside him, unsteady with his drunken body, “what do you want to do about this?”

                                                            ---

           “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I said that.” Brendon was practically skidding down the circular driveway in the snow, fumbling with his keys as Jon semi-chased him, staggering to the passenger side of the van. He threw himself in just as Brendon had turned the key in the ignition and swerved away from Pete’s house, narrowly missing his stone mailbox.

            “Brendon,” Jon held back bile as Brendon took the turn too quickly. Brendon was still repeating the same phrase over and over. “Brendon,” Jon tried again, “slow down, man. You do not want to get pulled over. I’m underage and drunk, and you smell like beer.” Brendon didn’t say anything in response, but he must have been listening because his speed dropped.

            “Everyone knows now, Jon. Everyone knows. _He_ knows.” Brendon eyesight turned blurry, and he realized how close he was to crying; his face burned with humiliation. He felt like it was happening all over again; he had embarrassed himself so badly that he wanted to scream, and Jon could have killed Gabe. He had gone too far this time, and he needed to learn to stay out of other people’s business.

            “I know, B, but it’s going to be fine,” he said, gripping the safety handle hanging over the window to steady himself, “Ryan isn’t going to -.”

            “Isn’t going to what? He hates me, Jon! I don’t know if his beating me up told you that or not.”

            “He doesn’t hate you. You guys are doing really well and he’ll understand. Besides, you were handing out your own ass kickings, too.” Brendon glared at him, even as he drove.

            “It’s different, and you know it,” he seethed. He couldn’t believe that had just happened. Four years of keeping this huge secret from everyone, including himself, and there it was, out of his mouth in less than five seconds.

            “It’s really not, B. I told you, he feels the same way about you.”

            “Stop, don’t try to make me feel better.” Brendon didn’t say anything else, and Jon sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. He could tell his hangover in the morning was going to be killer, and Brendon was definitely not going to be sleeping tonight.

                                                                                                                               ---

            The morning after is always worse than it’s supposed to be. Gabe woke up in Pete’s bed, alone, the next day. It was already past noon, and the sun from the windows beat down on his sensitive eyes. He groaned, rolling away from the light, and he saw his phone on the pillow next to him; he grabbed it and saw that he had no messages or missed calls. He thought maybe William was downstairs making coffee because he always took care of him when Gabe went too far with drinking. He slowly pushed himself to sit up and shoved his phone into his jean pocket as he got up. His head felt like it was going to explode if the pressure continued.

          As he moved through the trashed house to the equally destroyed kitchen, he saw no one. Looking out the window at the cars in the driveway, he saw that the only one there was Pete’s parent’s car. He frowned wondering where everyone was as he moved through the house. The last thing he remembered was dancing with Hayley and then William kicked everyone out because – because Pete had run out. Gabe’s head throbbed as he tried to remember. Pete had left because of Patrick… and then – Gabe dropped into the nearest chair. _Oh fuck. No._ He fumbled for his phone and hit William’s name on the recently called list. It rang and rang until he got the voicemail, and he tried three more times until his fourth call went straight to voicemail, which meant William had turned his phone off. Gabe could feel the panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d said those things to William – or Brendon. Fuck, he’d forgotten about Brendon. Gabe was officially the world’s worst dickhead.

           He called the first taxi service that he found on Google, and waited at the door for his ride. He wanted to go home, and hide in his shame forever, but he couldn’t. He needed to go to William and grovel, and hope that he would forgive him.

                                                                                                                                   ---

           Ryan could feel Spencer’s eyes on him when he came downstairs. He had spent the night with him, texting Jon on occasion, but mostly just being careful about what he said to Ryan. After they had left the bathroom, they saw William ushering a weepy Gabe up the stairs, and Spencer, still a little tipsy, asked Andy if he would give them a ride back to Ryan’s, which he had agreed to. Ryan knew why Spencer wouldn’t stop looking at him, and it was because he had never answered the question that Spencer had asked in the bathroom. He had no idea what they were going to do now that Brendon had admitted he loved him. Ryan knew how he felt about Brendon, too, but he wasn’t sure that telling him was the best idea. Could they be in a relationship after so many years of abuse? They had spent so long trying to tear each other apart that he didn’t know if that toxic past could turn into anything that would last.

          “Stop staring at me, Spence,” he said as he fell onto the couch next to the other boy.

          “I’m not,” he said, crossing his arms and continuing to look at the side of Ryan’s face. Ryan rolled his eyes, and tried to focus on the TV, and after less than three minutes, Spencer’s resolve cracked.

         “Are you serious?” he practically yelled, “Brendon told everyone he loved you, and I know you feel something for him, so why the fuck are we sitting here and not on our way to see him?”

         “Because… I don’t know what to do yet.”

          “What? You tell him, dumbass. This is what you’ve always wanted, and here it is!” Ryan turned on the couch to face Spencer.

         “It’s not that simple,” he said and told him what he’d been obsessing over since Brendon’s confession.

          “You’re worried that you can’t be together because you used to beat each other up?”

          “It’s not normal! People don’t abuse each other for years only to end up happily ever after. That’s not how it works.”

         “Since when have you and Brendon been normal?” Ryan glared at him and turned the volume on the TV up, disregarding Spencer’s wincing. “You can’t ignore this,” Spencer said, straining his voice over the noise of the television audience. Ryan made no gesture to show Spencer he was even listening, and Spencer growled under his breath as he burrowed into the couch, his headache intensifying from the loud TV. He was going to get Ryan and his shit together before they moved to opposite sides of the country if it killed him.

                                                                                                                              ---

            “William, please.”

           William sat on his bed as he listened to Gabe knocking on his locked bedroom door. He had heard the taxi pull up, and he had seen Gabe jump out of the backseat, not pausing to close the door, and run to his house. William knew his parents must have let him in, and Gabe, he knew, had taken to sitting on the ground while he pleaded with William to let him in.

            “I’m so – I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Gabe choked. William knew Gabe was near tears, and it was almost surprising because he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard the other boy cry. “Just let me in, and I’ll grovel, whatever it is, I’ll do it. I need you to forgive me.” William shook his head and tried to keep his resolve, but Gabe had been outside his door for over thirty minutes now, and he didn’t seem to plan on moving. William still wasn’t sure what to say to him. Gabe had practically told him they weren’t going to make it, and that had surprised him because William had assumed –.

               “Please, Bill,” Gabe interrupted his train of thought, and William sighed, pushing off his bed to cross to his bedroom door. He slowly unlocked it and eased it open, and Gabe looked up from the ground quickly as the door opened and looked up at William. He launched himself off the ground and went to hug William, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

                 “Right,” he said backing up and closing the door behind him while William took a seat on one of the armchairs in his room, “I’m sorry, Bill, please. You have to know that I am an insecure idiot who says and does fucking stupid things when I’m drunk.”

              William looked at him from his chair and couldn’t find the words to say. This was Gabe, and he had shared almost everything with him: his first serious relationship, his virginity, his first “I love you”…  Gabe moved and William thought he might take the chair across from him, but instead, he sank to his knees in front of him.

             “I know you have every reason to throw me out,” he started, “I’ve ruined Pete and Patrick’s relationship, humiliated Brendon and Ryan, made things were not my business, my business... I have fucked up a lot. You are something that I haven’t destroyed. All of my terrible qualities have not touched you or changed you in anyway,” as he spoke, Gabe reached up and put his hand over William’s where it rested on the arm of the chair. William’s other hand was over his mouth, trying not to show any emotion.

            “I hate myself for what I did last night. I should have told you how I felt, and I shouldn’t have flipped out on Brendon like that.”

            “You really feel that way?” William’s eyes narrowed and he moved his hand to grip the arm of the chair. “You really think we’ll break up just because we won’t be in the same town anymore? Do you think we’re together out of convenience?” He was mad and upset, but he couldn’t bring himself to shake Gabe’s hand away.

           “No! Not at all. I love you,” he said, desperately, “I’m just scared, and I know that we’ve never been apart for that long. Everyone is falling apart… and we don’t know what will happen when I leave. What if you meet someone?”

           “What if I -,” William breathed, “what if _you_ meet someone? Why would I be the one to move on?”

          “Because I’m not going to find anyone else like you. Someone who puts up with me, and even likes me for the weird things I do - those qualities no one else likes.” William huffed out a laugh.

          “That’s funny, Gabe because I always thought the same about you. I always thought that one day you would call me and say that you’d met someone in New York, who is so much better than your stupid high school boyfriend who stayed home after he graduated,” William said as he stood, finally pulling his hand out from under Gabe’s. “Then again, I hoped not. I hoped that we would stay together… I thought maybe I’d marry you someday.”

           “Bill,” Gabe reached for him, only to be stopped again.

           “I think you should go, Gabe. I need to think about – this.” Gabe gapped at him, and tears fell for the first time since he’d been there, but he wiped his face roughly and nodded.

              “Okay, yeah. I’ll just go. But please,” he paused to take a deep breath, “please call me or text me. Or come see me. This can’t be it. This can’t be over.”  William sighed again and went to open the door for Gabe.

            “I need time.” Gabe moved slowly out the door before turning around to look at him once more, and William stared at his face until only a sliver could be seen in the crack of the door. Then he shut it quietly and turned the lock.

                                                                                                                           ---

           Jon hung up the phone after he’d calmed Brendon’s grandmother down since Brendon hadn’t come home the night before. Jon could see Brendon, still sleeping, in his bed from the living area. He had texted Spencer on and off until the sun came up and Brendon had finally fallen asleep. They had both been hesitant to give details about their respective best friends, so Jon wasn’t really sure how Ryan had taken the bombshell, and Brendon had spent most of his night on his side, silent, and staring with unfocused eyes at the TV. Jon maneuvered into the kitchen, avoiding the creakier floorboards, trying not to wake Brendon up. He grabbed some water out of his nearly empty refrigerator and wondered if he should go to the store or waste some of his savings to order some breakfast to go.

            Before he could make the decision, he heard his phone ring, and assuming it was Brendon’s grandmother again, he answered it without looking at the caller ID.

           “Brendon is okay, Grams, I promise” Jon sighed into the phone.

          “Jon?” It was William.

          “Hey, man, sorry. I thought you were someone else. Listen, if this is about last night, I just want -.”

          “Jon, stop. It’s -,” he paused and Jon frowned, “it’s Patrick.” 

          “What? You find out why Pete left? Leaving his own party -.”

          “Jon!” William interrupted him again, “it’s about Patrick’s dad. Andy called me. He said he had talked to Pete… and – Patrick’s dad died last night.” Jon leaned against the counter, sagging heavily.

          “Shit,” he whispered.

          “I’m trying to get ahold of everyone for Patrick, to let them know. I think we should do something for him, like uhm, flowers or something? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” Jon nodded before remembering he was on the phone and William couldn’t see him.

          “Yeah, definitely. I’ll let Brendon know,” Jon ran a hand over his face, “he stayed with me last night.” William was silent for a moment before telling Jon he needed to make a few more calls and that he would call him back when they figured something out. Jon agreed and hung up, unsure if he should tell Brendon yet. It could either distract him from his own problem or add to his misery. He pushed his hand through his tangled mess of hair and moved toward the bed to wait until Brendon woke up.


	14. Chapter 14

**January 2013**

            Patrick’s mother was three hours late getting on the road because she couldn’t stop tending to Patrick. Pete promised her multiple times over that he would take care of everything, but it didn’t calm her, and he knew she couldn’t be blamed. She wanted to take Patrick with her, and asked him over and over if he was sure he didn’t want to come.  He would just shake his head, and tell her that he loved her and that she should go. His eyes were drooping closed; Pete had sat up in silence with Patrick on the living room couch for the entire night. They hadn’t even turned on the TV.  It hadn’t been until his mother was walking out the door that Patrick took action. He moved toward her quickly and hugged her tightly to him, telling her to be safe. She seemed to understand something that Pete didn’t because it started her crying all over again, and when she was finally gone, leaving Pete and Patrick standing in the hallway, Patrick spoke.

            “Can we go to your house? I don’t want to be here.” Pete had jumped at the chance to make Patrick feel better, and he raced up the stairs to grab a bag of clothes for Patrick. Once he’d packed, he went quickly back downstairs and grabbed Patrick’s coat and his own keys.

            In the car, they continued to sit in silence, and Pete could swear he was breathing too loud and he shouldn’t be able to hear his heart pounding. He had called his parents last night, and talked mainly to his own father; his mom was too upset and only spoke with him for a few minutes. They were coming home in two days, a week earlier than planned. They wanted to be there for Patrick and his mother, which made Pete love them even more for accepting Patrick’s family so fully into their own. After he’d hung up with them, he’d gone to the living room, letting Patrick and his mom have time together. At around five o’clock, Patrick made his way downstairs, and sat down on the cushion next to Pete, not touching him. He watched as Patrick went through moments of pure gut-wrenching grief and tears and moments of vacancy, where he looked nearly catatonic, and both had scared the hell out of Pete.

        When the sun had risen, Pete had left for the bathroom, but snuck outside to call Joe and Andy. They were the other people closest to Patrick, and he thought they should know. When he’d called Joe, Vicky had answered, ready to give him an earful, but when he asked to speak to Joe, she’d handed the phone over immediately, and he thought maybe he sounded sadder than he’d thought. Joe hadn’t wanted many details, and after he said that Patrick’s dad was dead, Joe just asked what he needed to do and where he needed to be. Pete had asked him to call around and let those who needed to know, know. Then he’d called Andy, who had asked more questions than Pete knew what to do with. Half of them, he had no answer for. He asked the same of Andy that he had of Joe, and Andy had asked to see Patrick. Pete, with no right of his own, said that he would let them know when Patrick was ready, and Andy shouldn’t have accepted the answer, but he did, and told Pete to keep him updated. Then, Pete had gone back to the living room, and sat back down, as they waited for Patrick’s mother to come downstairs. Pete knew she was awake because he’d heard her crying most of the night.

       Pete looked at Patrick now in the passenger seat as he pulled into his own driveway. He hated this. He hated that Patrick was hurting, hated that his dad was gone, hated that this is what it was that brought them back together, and hated that Patrick was barely speaking.  When they walked in the front door, Pete stopped at the state of his house, it was wrecked. Patrick didn’t bother to look around, and Pete realized he was ignoring the evidence of the party Pete had thrown to get back at him, and he wanted to punch himself in the face. He wondered if Patrick noticed the pictures of him were missing.

     “Do you want to sleep?” he asked and Patrick, thank god, nodded, so Pete led him to his bedroom, which had been a “no-party zone” and waited for Patrick to get settled on the edge of his bed.

      “I’m going to go clean up, so if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” Patrick said nothing, just watched Pete as he shuffled nervously out the door. He sighed and leaned his head on the door as soon as it was closed. He needed to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do in this situation. Was there a how to guide that he could read? _How-to Comfort the Best Friend that You’re in Love with and Had a Falling out with After His Father Dies_? He gathered cups and cans and various trash as he went from the hallway to the living room. He had to go over the kitchen three times, the dining room twice, and even the back porch and sunroom to get them clean, and it took him well over three hours just to pick up trash and fix furniture that had been turned on its side or moved to the wrong room. The bathrooms were disgusting, and he spent an hour in those. By the time he got around to vacuuming, he had eleven full garbage bags sitting in the garage (which he also had to clean).

       When he finished, he ran upstairs to check on Patrick, but he found him still asleep in the middle of his bed, pillow trapped in his arms and the comforter twisted around his body. Pete went back to the kitchen to find something he thought Patrick might eat because he hadn’t remembered seeing him eat anything since he had shown up at Patrick’s house. There was nothing but condiments and eggs in the refrigerator and old ice cream in the freezer, which meant he would have to go out to get something, and he really didn’t want to. He went into his dad’s office and opened the small safe under his desk to get the money they had left for him. He had spent every last dime of his own money on the party, and normally, he wouldn’t take the cash they left for him, but he needed to get something for them to eat.

      As he tucked his wallet into his pocket, he wondered if he should leave a note for Patrick or possibly wake him up, but he decided against it. He wouldn’t be gone long, and Patrick had been so tired that he figured Patrick would just sleep through. He would just run into town, ten minutes away, grab food, and be back in less than forty minutes. He grabbed his keys off the table in the foyer and ran out to his car.

                                                            ---

      Patrick rolled to his back, releasing the pillow in his grasp and smiled up at Pete’s ceiling until he remembered. Those seconds of bliss when he forgot that everything had gone to hell were worse than anything because for a moment, he’d forgotten that he and Pete had fought; he’d forgotten that he’d never see his father again. The lump in his throat returned with a vengeance, and he didn’t want to be alone. Looking around the room, he saw that Pete was not with him, and he crept slowly out of bed and made his way downstairs. When he made it to the kitchen and still hadn’t found him, he called out to him. Still nothing. He looked out the window to see that Pete’s car was gone, so he went back to Pete’s room, grabbed his phone and called him.

     After the third no answer, Patrick began to panic. What if Pete had meant to be quick? Just like his dad said he would be back soon… By the time that thought went through his head, he was sitting on the floor having a full blown anxiety attack. His mom was out of town, so what if something happened to her while she was gone? What if Pete had been in an accident? His breathing became increasingly shallow. If his dad was gone, and his mom – and Pete? He would be all alone… no one left to take care of him. He felt wet drops fall on his shirt and realized he was crying, and he tried Pete’s phone again and again until his phone overheated in his hands.

      Patrick was going to call his mother when the front door opened, and he was up and on his way down the stairs before Pete could even close the door behind him. Pete caught sight of him and smiled, holding up takeout bags.

       “Hey, you’re up. I got us some food, thought you might be…” Pete trailed off as he took in Patrick’s expression.

       “You were gone,” Patrick said, and Pete nodded cautiously.

       “Yeah, I went to -.”

      “You didn’t answer your phone.”

      “I’m sorry. I was in a rush, and I forgot -.”

      “Don’t do that again. You can’t just disappear like that. I didn’t know where you were or if- if something happened to you,” Patrick rambled on, “what if something had happened? You would be gone and then everyone would be gone and -.”

      Pete set the food on the table next to the door and approached Patrick at the bottom of the stairs.

     “Hey, man. I’m fine. Really, I was safe. You know how people get, driving in snow, they’re slow as hell. I used my blinkers, and I even went the speed limit,” he joked, but Patrick was just staring at Pete’s shoes. “Are you hungry? I got a few things for you, but I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.” Patrick shook his head and told him that he wasn’t hungry.

     “Too bad,” Pete said, “you need to eat something. Don’t want you to waste away.” He continued his joking tone, unsure if he should coddle Patrick or treat him like he normally would.

     “It would take a long time for that,” Patrick murmured quietly, but Pete heard him. He knew Patrick didn’t have awesome self-esteem, but he had never heard him really voice it before.

     “Trick –.” Patrick shook his head. “No,” Pete said sternly and Patrick looked at him, finally, surprised, “you need to hear this. I don’t understand why you don’t like yourself. It is actually the most confusing thing in the world to me. Ever since we were kids, I’ve thought that you were perfect.” Patrick said his name, trying to stop him, but he was having none of it.

     “Don’t. It’s true. I have always admired everything about you. You’re so fucking good at everything you do – I still am blown away when I hear you play a song or sing or make sense of the crazy I throw at you. And you’re smart. You’re going to be the valedictorian for Christ’s sake! You are honest and caring and passionate. You are the only one on this planet that puts up with me and that’s a talent in and of itself. You make me laugh; I never have as much fun as I do when I’m with you. No one makes me as happy as you do. I’d trust you with my life, Trick.” Patrick was sitting on the bottom step, dropping his head down, and Pete moved to sit beside him.

      “And – if I could get even cheesier- believe me when I say that the outside is a reflection of that. You are gorgeous,” he said, and Patrick’s shoulders shook, “I mean that. There is nothing about you that I don’t think is perfect,” Pete put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, his fingertips brushing his collarbone through his thin t-shirt. “I love you.” Maybe it wasn’t the best time to say it, but Pete had never felt it more.

      “I love you,” he repeated, “and I’m not just saying that because I think you need to hear it. I’m saying it because I should have a long time ago. I can’t remember not feeling it, and I don’t expect anything, you know. I just want to be in your life. I will be whatever you need, whether that’s just a bass player, your friend – or more.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s shoulder and felt the weight being lifted off of his own. He did it; granted, he could have picked a better time to tell him, but he’d done it anyway. He finally told Patrick how he felt and the world was still turning. He released him and stood once more.

     “So,” he trailed over to pick up the food, “I’m going to go and reheat this. Go set up on the couch and I’ll bring it to you.” Patrick still remained silent, but he did move to the living room. Pete stopped by the laundry room, next to the garage and let Hemingway out, and the dog had jumped off his bed and nearly knocked over his water bowl as he ran out the door and straight for the couch, ignoring Pete completely. He grinned as he began reheating the food in the microwave, and he could hear Hemingway’s small whines as he no doubt jumped all over his favorite human. Once the food was warm, he grabbed a couple of glasses, filled them with water, and joined Patrick on the couch. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels before settling on a random movie on HBO.

      Patrick was eating slowly next to him, while trying to keep Hemingway away from his food. Pete leaned back into the couch, his knee close enough to touch Patrick’s, but he kept it to himself and focused on devouring his own meal. They spent the rest of the day there, silent unless they needed to say something, and only moving for food, bathroom breaks and the phone calls from Patrick’s mom. When the sky darkened with clouds and snow began to fall harder, they cleaned up, turned everything off and moved upstairs. It was only seven thirty and Patrick had already slept so much, but he was still tired. And he still wasn’t sure how to respond to Pete because everything their friends had been telling him had been confirmed, and he wanted more than anything to be able to tell him that he felt the same, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know why.

      “So, I packed some sweats and stuff if you want to sleep some more,” Pete told him as he went through his own drawers, looking for comfier clothes. Patrick, still silent, dug through his bag until he found what Pete was talking about. Keeping their backs to each other, they changed. It was unnecessary to turn around since they had seen each other naked before in their thirteen years of friendship, but they did anyway. Patrick climbed into Pete’s bed and watched as Pete puttered around his room before speaking.

       “Okay, so I’m going to crash in the guest room,” he said, moving to the door swiftly, “If you need anything, just yell. I’m right across the hall.”

      “Pete,” Patrick said before he could close the door, and his head peeked back in.

      “Yeah?”

      “Can you stay here?” Pete paused, debating with himself.

      “Yeah, I can, uhm,” he re-entered the room, closing the door and moving over to the couch that sat under his windows, across the room from the bed. “I’ll be right here.” He sat down on one end of the couch and began clearing the other side off, but Patrick still wouldn’t lie down.

      “With me,” Patrick said, hoping Pete would get the hint.

       “Trick, you don’t have to do this. I told you that I don’t expect anything -.”

        “We’ve always shared a bed.” Pete hesitated, but finally rose and moved to the bed, where Patrick moved to the left and let Pete slide under the covers next to him. He lay stiffly on his back with his hands clasped on his stomach, but Patrick reached his hand out to touch his arm and pulled. Pete sighed so lightly that Patrick barely heard it, and he rolled to his side and faced Patrick. Patrick pulled the comforter over their heads; the limited light from moon outside the window shown through the thin duvet and as their eyes adjusted, they could see the outline of each other’s faces.

      Patrick placed his hand in between them on the bed and waited.

      As his eyes began to fall closed, he felt Pete’s hand take his.

                                               ---

       After two straight days of Pete and Patrick’s new routine (sleep, eat, silence, watch TV, more silence, turn their friends away at the door, talk to Patrick’s mom, silence, more sleep), Pete’s parents finally came home. Pete wasn’t sure how Patrick was going to handle seeing the man he’d always claimed was a second father. Would he realize just how much more his own father had meant to him? Would he be angry that Pete had still had his father? Pete was so lost in his head that he didn’t even hear the door opening from his spot on the couch.

      “Hi sweetheart,” Pete heard his mother say and saw that she wasn’t looking at him. Patrick was staring at her and Peter as they stood under the archway into the living room, and Hemingway, oblivious to any misery, jumped around them, pushing at their legs with his stubby ones, whining happily. Susan began to walk over to them and Pete felt Patrick tense next him. _Here it comes_ , he thought as Patrick stood up suddenly, and Pete was ready for him to bolt. What he wasn’t prepared for was Patrick latching onto Susan. She immediately began to cry, and Pete couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was talking to Patrick under her breath while he buried his face in her neck.

      Pete looked at his father as he stood, and suddenly, he couldn’t catch his breath. Patrick would never have this again. His father would never stand in the doorway waiting for him. What if it had been him? What of Pete was the one who would never see his dad again? A rush of unexpected feelings and fears had him hurrying to Peter, but he was ready for Pete and held his son tightly to his chest.

      “It’s alright,” he said, “I’m here.” Pete only hugged him tighter until his arms began to ache. Only then did he pull away; Peter held his son by the shoulders, arms-length away, and smiled warmly at him before releasing him. Pete moved to the side and let his dad pass him, and within seconds, Susan had her arms wrapped around him. He watched his dad approach Patrick over Susan’s shoulder. Peter reached a hand out and Patrick looked as if he was holding back from him, but Peter didn’t let him back away, and he pulled Patrick into a hug quickly, before the boy could change his mind.

      “It’s not the same,” Peter said quietly for Patrick’s ears only. “I know it’s not the same. But he’s here, with you, always. Remember that. It’s okay to miss him, to be angry with him. It’s okay to feel grief, but know that you are a piece of him, so he can never leave you.” Patrick sagged against Peter, and let his arms finally wrap around him. This is what he needed to hear. “It’s not the same,” he repeated, “but we love you, too, Susan and me. Like a son. You’ll always be his son, always, but you’ve always been ours, too.” Peter clapped Patrick’s back softly as he cried.

     Hemingway settled onto the rug in the center of the living room, his eyes watching the four people as he waited for them to finally pay attention to him.

                                                                                                                             ---

      Jon and Spencer met for lunch the day before they went back to school. They talked about their acceptance letters, Patrick and his dad, Gabe and William… everything except what they really wanted to talk about. They had both been sworn to secrecy by their respective friends and were under strict order to not tell each other anything.

      “So,” Spencer said as casually as possible, “I haven’t heard from Brendon lately…”

     “Nope,” Jon stopped him, “I can’t, and you can’t either.”

       “All they said was we could tell each other,” Spencer sighed, “what if I guessed?” Jon shook his head.

       “I can’t do that to him. He was really broken up afterwards.”

      “Okay,” Spencer said, and Jon was surprised at how easily he’d given up, “but you could guess about Ryan.”  Or not. Jon rolled his eyes and finished off his glass of water.

       “Spencer,” he warned, “I’m not going to betray Brendon like this, and you shouldn’t do it to Ryan. They asked us not to say anything, so we shouldn’t.”

     “Okay, you’re right. But Ryan is like my brother, and I want him to be happy, which he is not.” Jon shook his head and they fell silent, finishing their meals. After the waiter had come by to clear their table, Jon leaned back in his seat and finally looked at Spencer, ready to play along.

     “Is he unhappy because Brendon said what he said?” Spencer shook his head, and brightened when he realized what Jon was doing.

       “Is he unhappy because he doesn’t fell the same way?” Spencer shook his head once again.

      “Is he unhappy because he does feel the same, but he doesn’t know what to say?” Spencer nodded in an over exaggerated way causing Jon to laugh.

      “Why doesn’t he know what to do? Is he going to tell him?” Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

       “Right, yes or no only. Okay, is he afraid to be in a relationship with Bren?” Spencer nodded, and he waved his hand as if to say, “and?”

      “Okay, he’s afraid because he doesn’t think it will work out?” Spencer repeated his previous action.

       “He’s afraid it won’t work out because,” Jon stared at Spencer as if the answer would come to him telepathically, “because… they don’t have a good history?” Spencer nodded like his head was going to fall off.

      “My turn, my turn,” Spencer said, excited, “Brendon is freaking out because he doesn’t think Ryan feels the same, and he thinks he’s ruined any chance they have at being friends, and he’s embarrassed because everyone knows.” It wasn’t even a question and Jon looked at him, surprised that he already knew.

       “How did -.”

        “I pay attention,” Spencer said, and he stood up from the table to leave. Jon fumbled for his wallet, but the waiter came by with a receipt and change. Spencer had paid without him noticing, and Jon rushed outside to meet his observant boyfriend.

                                                            ---

       Brendon had received the phone call from Berkley at noon. When his grandmother had answered the phone, they had been watching TV together on the couch, and when the music department asked for Brendon, she had begun hitting his arm in excitement, and he rubbed it protectively, yelping.

       “He’s right next to me,” she said, voice much calmer than her demeanor. She handed the phone over without saying anything else, and Brendon took the phone, confused.

       “Hello?”

       “Brendon? Hello, my name is Jeffery Bloom. I’m the dean of admissions at Berkley.” Brendon felt his heart rise into his throat. He hadn’t received any letter of acceptance or rejection for his early application, and he was beginning to worry, but if they were calling him, it had to be a good thing. At least he hoped it was a good thing.

      “Yes, hi, Mr. Bloom.”

       “Listen, I’m looking at your application, and it is impressive, to say the least. I see that you play multiple instruments, and you’re interested in vocal performance. I would like to offer you an audition spot.”

_Holyshitholyshitholyshit._

      “That would be incredible,” he forced out as his grandmother squeezed his now tender arm.

       “Great, I have a few different dates open,” he paused, “yes, there is January 17th, January 26th, and February 1st. Do you have a day in mind?”

      “Uh, January 17th would be fine,” he tried to think if it would interfere with anything, “is there something in particular I should bring or prepare?”

       “I will be sending out an email at the end of the week with details. I’ve entered you in for the 17th. The call time is 8:00AM. If something happens and you can’t make it, leave word with my assistant and we will work it out.”

       “Great, thank you, Mr. Bloom, I appreciate the opportunity.”

      “We’re excited to have you,” he said and wrapped up the phone call. Brendon lowered the phone and looked at his grandmother who was staring at him, glassy eyes and a huge smile.

      “I got an audition,” he said, almost not believing it himself. She grabbed him into a tight hug, and told him how proud she was of him.

      “So, January 17th,” she stood up, and moved to the calendar on the wall, and she wrote in big capital letters, BRENDON’S AUDITION. She was so excited for him, and he was so happy to have her. He thought of his parents and how they had never accepted music as a career, but Grams had always told him that he could do anything he wanted to.

       “What do you want to do for dinner? I could make your favorite,” she paused, “or we could go out! Celebrate your big audition.” Brendon smiled at here and nodded.

      “We should go out,” he said, and she moved to hug him again.

       “This is wonderful news. In light of everything that has been happening,” she said, and Brendon knew she was talking about Patrick’s family, and Brendon only nodded. He had been so devastated for Patrick when he’d heard, but still, he couldn’t stop thinking about his own problems and it made him feel selfish. His cell phone started ringing, and his grandmother rushed off, telling him she’d be ready soon and left him to his phone. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Gabe. Again.

        Gabe had been calling him on and off for days, and he’d sent plenty of messages that Brendon didn’t bother to read. He was still pissed off at Gabe, and he hit the decline button and silenced his phone. He needed to stop concentrating on all the bad and be happy that the college he had his heart set on seemed to want him back. He stayed on the couch, thinking of arrangements he could play, if he was allowed to choose, until his grandmother came back into the living room carrying her purse and pushed him toward the door.

                                                                        ---

            It was the first day of spring semester, the last first day that any of them would have in high school. And it was not a happy one. Pete and Patrick had been called out sick by their parents, Gabe was nowhere to be found, and Ryan was supposedly at school, but no one had seen him. Ashlee sat at her desk as the students filed in, and as usual, Joe and Andy retreated to the back corner and Vicky and Greta sat with Hayley. Travis was with Jon and Spencer, and Brendon sat just behind them. William, she noted, was isolated at the end of one of the rows closest to the door.

            She didn’t have anything planned. It was a well-known fact among teachers that students weren’t exactly excited about assignments right after Christmas, and it was a lesser known fact that the teachers didn’t want to hand out an assignments. Plus, after she had heard about Patrick’s father, she knew that this class in particular wouldn’t want to work, so, a movie it was. She could tell that the class was happy about not having to do any actual schoolwork, and as soon as she started the film, Ryan walked through the door. He didn’t spare a glance to the class, just walked up to her and asked to see her in office.

            “Hey, guys,” she said, nodding to Ryan, “quiet down and watch the movie. I’ll be right back.” She entered her office and closed the door behind her.

            “What’s going on, Ryan? It’s not like you to be late.” He wouldn’t sit down, but instead stood close to the window.

            “I’m not feeling well,” he lied, “Could I be excused?” She asked him if he had driven, and he shook his head. “I can call my mom; she’s off work today.” Ashlee nodded.

            “Okay,” she said, and she knew she should stop there, but when had she ever been able to control herself? “Now, what’s really going on?” Ryan looked at her surprised.

            “It’s nothing, just not feeling good well today,” he said, looking at her desk and avoiding eye contact.

            “Call your mom, but Ryan,” she said waiting for to look up, “I know I’m not your counselor, but I want you to know that you can talk to me. I am here for you guys. Well, you guys and my paycheck.” Ryan quirked a smile at her and nodded, reaching for the phone. She sighed and left Ryan to make his call. Taking a seat at the front of the room, she watched along with the teens and kept an eye on her office door. Ten minutes later Ryan walked back into the room, closing the door behind him.

            “She said she’ll be here in a few minutes. Could I wait in the principal’s office?” Ryan whispered to her, and she knew that something was wrong if he didn’t want to sit with his friends, but she nodded.

            “Feel better,” she said quietly as he left the room, and as the door closed behind him, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

            “Can I go to the bathroom?” Jon asked her, and she turned to look at him and heard Brendon say his name.

            “Go ahead,” she said, “Brendon,” she warned when he looked like he was going to follow him. He hesitantly sat back down and watched Jon walk out.

-

            “Ryan! Wait up!” Jon sprinted to meet him in the hallway.

            “If this is about what I think it’s about, stop now,” Ryan said and continued to walk. He wanted to go home; he didn’t think he could face Brendon at the moment. He couldn’t deal with knowing how Brendon felt and trying to figure his own feelings out while sitting in a classroom.

            “Okay, no,” Jon said, making Ryan turn to look at him, “I’m going to say what I need to say and then I’ll stop. First, this whole thing has nothing to do with me or Spencer, but we’re still involved because we care about you.”

            “Jon-.”

            “Not done, don’t interrupt. Second, I’m pretty sure that you feel the same, and not telling him that because you’re afraid is stupid.”

            “Jon-.”

            “What did I just say? Third, Brendon thinks you hate the way he feels about you, and he is freaking out. He needs something from you – anything,” Jon paused, “okay, now you may speak.” Ryan rolled his eyes.

            “First, I know you guys care. Second, I’m not sure what I’m feeling about this; it’s not just fear. And third, I don’t hate it. I was surprised and now I’m freaking out, too. But I don’t know what to give him to make him better. Just tell him that it’s okay and that he shouldn’t worry, I guess.” Jon shook his head.

            “Nope, you can tell him that. He needs to hear from you, not me,” Ryan began to reply, but Jon beat him to it, “no buts! Except maybe Brendon’s butt. He’s got a nice one, huh? Have you noticed?” Jon smirked, and Ryan rolled his eyes once more and turned around.

            “Bye, Jon,” he called over his shoulder. Jon waved and headed toward the bathroom. He knew Brendon would be pissed when he found out, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was only looking out for them, and Spencer would agree. Actually, Spencer would be ecstatic that he’s done it, and wasn’t that going to make for a good night?

\---

            Pete sat outside of his bedroom and listened to Patrick crying on the phone to his mother while she told him the details of the funeral. She wanted Patrick to write the eulogy, and that just wasn’t something that a eighteen year old boy should have to deal with. He was so frustrated that he couldn’t find a way to comfort Patrick, and he felt tears sting his eyes.

            He was beyond relieved that his parents were home as they had taken control as soon as their reunion in the living room. Susan had gone to the store to restock the house after many reassurances that she would be safe. Peter had seen the garbage bags in the garage and Pete knew he was really upset about Patrick’s dad when he didn’t get angry that he’d had a party. He had gotten a little heated when he found all the pictures of Patrick in their room, and Pete had just stared while Peter replaced each one.

            “Wanna tell me why you took these down?” Peter asked as he placed the final one on the mantel, but Pete didn’t reply, unsure of what to say. “Son, I know that you are young and stupid,” he chuckled at Pete’s wide-eyed reaction, “but you are a good person. Whatever is going on between you two, believe me when I say that you will move past this.”

            “I don’t think so. This was big, dad. You wouldn’t understand -.”

            “Pete, I know,” he said meaningfully, “I know how you feel about him. Does he know?” Pete nodded.

            “I told him the day I brought him here. He said something about himself that I didn’t like and I couldn’t stop myself.”

            “And what did he say?”

            “I told him he didn’t need to say anything until he was sure and that I was here whether he wanted or not.” Peter laughed.

            “Did I tell you how I told your mother I loved her?” Pete rolled his eyes and looked over at him from his place on the couch.

            “Is this going to turn into a seven year story that ends with you and someone who is not mom?” Pete joked.

            “No,” he laughed and took a seat next to him, “It was our senior year of college, and your mom and I had broken up for the hundredth time and she was dating some idiot lacrosse player. Well, she found out he cheated on her and was crying her eyes out behind the bleachers during lunch. So I found her, told her that she was better than that guy, that I wanted her back, and she slapped me clean across my face. Said I wasn’t allowed to say things like that to her anymore. I told her that I loved anyway and she said, no joke, ‘I know.’ She Han Solo-ed me. And then she ignored me for two weeks before showing up at my apartment and telling me she was ready.”

“And then you asked her to marry you?”

            “The very same day. And here we are, successful and happy with two sons.” Pete felt his eyes fill with tears again, suddenly, and Peter threw his arm around his shoulders and sat with him until his mother made it home. He watched them greet each other at the door, and his dad took the groceries from her, kissing her quickly and she moved back to the car for a second trip. Once again, he was struck with how much he wanted that with someone, but it wasn’t a faceless someone anymore. He knew exactly who he wanted to be with.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this ends super abruptly, but I have a sequel written, and it explains what happens to everyone. I'll post it soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading this VERY old story!

**January 2013**

            Pete, Patrick, and his mother were in the backseat of the car while Peter and Susan sat up front. They were on their way to Evanston for the funeral, and Pete felt like his black suit was too hot and his tie was choking him. Patrick sat next to him in his own black suit and his mother in a black dress that Patrick’s dad had bought her on her birthday the previous year. Pete’s parents, too, were in all black. He wondered how many people would be there because as far as Pete knew, Patrick’s dad had never met someone who didn’t like him. Would their friends show up? He doubted it since they were pretty much falling apart. He sighed and adjusted in his seat, trying not to jostle Patrick too much. He was just ready to get there, but at the same time he didn’t want to go at all. No radio played, no one spoke or cried, but the silence buzzed loudly in his ears.

            When they arrived to the sight of funeral, the parking lot was full, and Pete swore he saw Brendon’s purple van, but he was sure was mistaken. He could see the green awning covering the place where Patrick’s father would be buried. Where he would be in the ground…

            His father parked the car and turned to look at Patrick’s mom, “ready when you are.” She nodded, and clutching Patrick’s hand, they got out of the car. Pete followed closely behind the two as they entered the funeral home where they were immediately bombarded by family and Pete moved to the side with his parents to allow them room. Patrick looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, and when they finally dispersed and entered the adjacent room for the proceedings, Pete’s parents lead Patrick’s mother in and moved behind her, sitting in the seats reserved for family. Pete waited in the hallway with Patrick, who was unfolding and refolding the paper in his hands. The eulogy. Pete hadn’t seen it yet, and Patrick hadn’t been eager to share it. Now, he wondered if he should say something to Patrick, but he couldn’t think of anything. He was saved by the loud crowd of teenagers coming around the corner.

            They were all there, together. Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, Jon, Joe, Andy, Vicky, Greta, Travis, Hayley, and William… No Gabe.

            “There he is!”

            “Shut up! This is a funeral home!”

            “You are all so fucking loud, I swear…” Pete smiled at his friends as they brought some normalcy back to the situation. Patrick was shoving the eulogy in his pocket and waved, which trigged the large group to push and shove each other to get to them. Joe, unsurprisingly beat them all, and he threw his arms around Patrick and held tight. It took Travis tugging on him to get him to finally move, and one by one they hugged Patrick and told him whatever they could think of to soothe him. As they parted, they piled inside the door and into the back aisle’s pew, squishing together to fit, and Pete heard the door open, surprised to see Gabe actually was there. He thought maybe he should stop him, since he’d heard what happened after he left the party, but he was in front of Patrick before he could make the decision.

            “Hey, I know I’m the last person anyone wants here, but I heard what happened, and,” he paused glancing at Pete, “could we talk alone, maybe?”

            “No.”

            “Yeah.” Pete looked at Patrick, confused. “It’s alright. I’m- I’m okay.” Pete sighed and moved just inside the door and just outside of hearing range.

            “Like I said, I know I wasn’t asked to be here, but I wanted to be here for you. No one else – really gets it, I guess. And it’s different for everyone, but I’ve been here. I lost my dad, too. I know our pain is different, we’re different people and so were our dads, but I know what it’s like to lose that. To know that my dad won’t be there for my graduation, to know he won’t see me get married or have kids…” he trailed off waiting for Patrick to say something, anything.

            “When does it get better?”

            “It doesn’t, but you learn to live with it. You find other places or people or hobbies to put yourself into. I threw myself into becoming a doctor because I want to save someone like my father when he comes into the hospital after a car accident. I threw myself into other people’s business because it took my mind off of what was wrong with me. And I threw myself into my relationship. William was the best thing I could have chosen to focus on. Because, in a different way, he brought me the same things my dad brought me. Love, support, advice, motivation… He put up with me like no one else would.”

            “I can’t think of anything but my dad. None of the stuff that was important before matters now. Not college, not our fights, not all this back and forth with Pete… Why do I stress over all this when it none of it really matters?”

            “It does matter. If it’s important to you, it matters. What would your dad say about college or me or Pete?” Patrick shrugged. “You know what he would say. You knew him better than you think.”

            “He would tell me that he’s proud of me for getting into NYU, and that I can’t throw away a good opportunity. That friends fight but we need to get over it. And,” he huffed out a small laugh that turned into a cry, “and he would tell me to get my head out of my ass and tell Pete that I love him, too.” Gabe grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

            “So he’d tell you to forgive me, huh?”

            “All of that and you took forgiving you away from it?”

            “You know me, selfish idiot and all that,” he laughed.

            “You’re an idiot, but you’re not selfish.”  Patrick and Gabe turned to find William standing at the doorway, and Gabe swallowed roughly.

            “Yes, an idiot. A colossal idiot.”

            “Patrick, they want to start. I think and your mom is waiting on you.” Patrick let Gabe hug him before he left them alone.

            “You showed up,” William said and Gabe nodded, “even though no one wanted you here,” Gabe nodded again. “I don’t forgive you, yet, but I really want to hold your hand through this, and I know you want to hold mine.” Gabe moved toward him and William held his hand out to lead them to the ceremony.

\---

            As soon as Patrick finished stumbling through the eulogy he’d written, trying not to look at the closed casket behind him, they led everyone outside. Patrick’s mother was first, led by the preacher, to the burial site as the snow came down hard and people tried their best to huddle for warmth. Patrick stopped shy of everyone and when Pete noticed him, he turned back and stood in front of him.

            “What are we doing?” he asked quietly. Patrick didn’t reply and turned, walking to a mausoleum just out of sight. He sat down on the other side, making sure he couldn’t see the green awning that his father’s coffin sat under. Pete slid down next to him, the snow cold even through his long coat, and he leaned against the wall of the mausoleum. “Trick, you’re doing that thing again where you don’t talk and it freaks me out, and I know today isn’t about me, but I can’t be here for you if you-.”

            “I love you,” Patrick interrupted him but didn’t meet his eyes. Pete’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he could speak again.

            “Wow. That’s – okay. I mean it’s so much better than okay, but – you do, really?” Patrick let his head fall back against the granite building, not wanting to explain himself, but Pete continued, “Because I told you that you don’t have to say anything. I’ll be here no matter what. Are you just looking for somewhere to-.”

            “What?” Patrick asked annoyed, “somewhere to throw my feelings so I don’t have to deal with the fact that they’re putting my dad in the ground right now?” His voice cracked. “Jesus Christ. I tell you what you wanted to hear and-.”

            “That’s what you’re doing? You’re telling me what I want to hear? This isn’t about me, Trick-.” Patrick threw his hands up, anger taking over.

            “Why didn’t you say anything before now? Why tell me after my dad-?”

            “Because I wanted to tell you. I thought you…”

            “You thought I needed to hear it? Funny, that’s what I thought I was doing,” he took a deep breath and looked at Pete. “This is a bad idea, Pete. We are friends. Best friends.”

            “Wait, wait! No! You can’t just say that and then take it back. What are you trying to tell me? That you love me or that you’re in love with me?” Patrick pushed himself off the ground, wishing now that he’d kept his mouth shut.

            “Pete, I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re my friend and I need you to be here with me right now. If you can’t do that, then I think we should just take some time away from each other.”

            “I’m not letting this go, Patrick,” he said, rising to stand next to him.

            “Maybe you should. I tried, you tried. We went out swinging, and to be honest, this is more important. I need to take care of my mom, not you.” Patrick left him standing outside the mausoleum and disappeared into the snow.

**March 2013**

            The snow thawed and January became February and by March, it was no longer a white city, but the air bit just the same, and the occasional snow fall turned into grey slush. Patrick and Pete hadn’t spoken since the funeral unless forced to, but then it was only civil. There were no more vindictive parties or fights, just consistent avoidance. Gabe and Patrick had re-bonded and spent more and more time together, planning their move to New York, which was the only thing keeping Patrick sane. Gabe was still trying to win William over, but he was holding his ground, unsure if he wanted to let Gabe back in if he wasn’t sure about their future. Ryan would occasionally join in with Gabe and Patrick to talk about NYU, and they tried to decide if it was a good idea to move in together to save on rent, and they realized quickly that they would have to live in a studio together if they wanted to afford an apartment near the college.

       Brendon’s interview at Berkley went well – better than well, actually. He was offered a choice in placement after his audition and he’d decided on vocal performance after being encouraged by Pete to pursue singing as a career. His grandmother was so excited for him, but he found himself dreading the idea of leaving her alone. She’d taken care of him for the last four years, and he wanted nothing more than to stay and return the favor, but he knew how much his success meant to her. He and Ryan were still tip-toeing around each other, trying to figure out what they were supposed to say, and things were awkward when they would hang out with Jon and Spencer, but it was better than the old fighting days. Avoiding each other was easy, though, since Ryan spent a lot of his time preparing to move to New York with Gabe and Patrick. And Jon, well, Jon was ecstatic about college.

        He couldn’t stop talking about California and the fact that Spencer was going with him. Brendon was happy for them, but enough was enough, and he tended to space out whenever Jon would start talking about California again. He and Spencer had decided not to live together, and instead opted for random roommates in the dorms because it was so much cheaper than getting an apartment. Jon was ready to be like a normal kid his age and not work his ass off just to afford a shitty apartment in a sketchy part of town. He and Spencer spent most of their time together, looking over UCLA’s campus maps, photos of their dorms, and the different classes they could take and clubs they could join. Jon wished that Brendon and Ryan were going to California with them, and he wondered often if they would actually see each other after they moved. He didn’t want to lose either of them if he could help it, so he tried to include them in his and Spencer’s plans as often as he could, despite the fact that Ryan and Brendon weren’t really speaking.

        Classes had become increasingly tense, and it wasn’t just because no one was talking to each other. Ashlee could tell that her students were beyond stressed about their futures, so much so that they didn’t have time to worry about personal problems. No one had even mentioned the prom in her senior class, even though it was all the freshman could talk about, and they weren’t even going. For what seemed like the thousandth time since the school year started, she reminded herself that she was not a counselor, and it was not her job to look after their mental health. But looking over the sad and tired faces of her students, she couldn’t help it. She remembered her senior year of high school well, when she had been completely carefree and excited about the future, but the seniors passing through her class day to day were not enjoying it the same way she did. So, one Monday morning in mid-March, just before Spring Break, she decided to force them to live a little.

        “Good morning,” she sang as she breezed into class one day, ready to push a little happiness onto her class. There were a few greetings thrown back at her, but for the most part, they remained silent, and it only reaffirmed her decision to let her class have a free period today. “I know you’re all stressed,” she started, “and I’d hate to add onto that, so I want to give you guys the day to relax and maybe get some work done for your other classes. You can stay here, head to the library, courtyard, or study hall, whatever, just don’t leave the school. I’ll be here in my office if you need anything.” Brendon waited until most of the class had gotten up before joining them at the door, and Jon moved to stand with him, leaving Spencer with Ryan at the front of the group, filing out the door.

         Jon didn’t speak until they were moving down the hallway and he fell back from the rest of the class as they parted ways, “so, I found something out today, and I wanted to tell you even though it’s none of our business.” Brendon looked at him, confused, but he slowed for Jon to catch up, and let everyone get just out of ear shot from them.

        “Okay, what is it?” Jon didn’t look at him and kept his eyes on the class, and it was then that Brendon realized that Jon was really angry, which was strange because Brendon had only seen Jon mad about three times since he’d met him.

       “Spencer told me that Ryan found out who outed him,” he whispered and Brendon understood why he was angry now. Jon probably wanted to confront the guy who’d hurt Ryan and split their group apart, but he just wasn’t an aggressive guy. Brendon didn’t say anything, waiting for Jon to tell him who it was, but he didn’t volunteer the information.

       “And?” Brendon prompted him.

       “It was Ritter,” he spat, and Brendon felt like he was going to be sick. Tyson? He knew the guy was a sleaze, but he hadn’t imagined that he would go so far. He immediately replayed Halloween in his head when he’d almost left the party with Tyson. He remembered Tyson’s hands all over him as they talked to Jon while Spencer and Ryan watched on, and he felt increasingly nauseous at the idea.

       “Did they say anything to him?” he ground out and Jon shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “Are they going to?” Again, Jon shook his head.

       “They’ve known for two months,” he told Brendon, which floored him. They’d known for months and they hadn’t said anything to Tyson? He found the boy they were discussing on the edge of the group, laughing obnoxiously with his friends as they headed for the courtyard, and for the first time in months, Brendon felt like punching someone.

**April 2013**

       April brought finals, which brought more stress and tension, but again, they were too busy to really interact with each other. So, the week before graduation arrived and Ryan and Patrick were pulled into the principal’s office, and Ryan immediately assumed that he was in trouble for something, though he didn’t know what because any time he’d been in the office, it had been because he and Brendon had been caught fighting. However, this time, there was good news.

        Patrick was surprised when he found out he was Valedictorian. He’d thought after his dad’s passing that he’d slacked off, missed days, but in reality, it had brought him focus, and he’d thrown himself into helping his mother, going to school, planning his move to New York, and working. Nate, the owner of the record shop, had taken pity on him and told him he could work with him in the shop four days a week, restocking shelves and organizing vinyl, CDs, and cassettes. For the past three months, he’d saved every dime he made and put it into a savings account. Even though he could have his choosing of grants and scholarships, New York was expensive and apartments were outrageously overpriced.

       Ryan had been more excited for him than he had been for himself, and he was all smiles; Patrick knew that he was genuinely happy for him. They made the announcement of the seniors graduating with honors over the intercom one morning, and Patrick was not surprised (maybe a little surprised) that Pete had made it. He also knew that Pete had told his parents about Patrick being Valedictorian because they’d called him to tell him how proud they were of him, and he missed them almost as much as he missed their idiot son.

        As he moved down the hallway, he was bombarded by posters for the prom that he wasn’t going to and really, he’d all but forgotten about it. He knew that Joe and Vicky were planning to go, even though Vicky told everyone that she didn’t want to, and Greta and Andy were going as friends. Hayley was the only one who seemed genuinely excited about the event, and he guessed it was because she and Travis were still going strong, and she had no worries about her future. She’d gotten into Oxford, and surprisingly, Travis was nothing but happy for her, even though they would never see each other.

       Patrick looked up and saw the giant ‘Countdown to Prom’ banner that hung across the hall. The number had been changed to a two earlier that morning and Patrick realized just how close they were to the end of high school. He had been in a bit of a haze since January, which was to be expected, but he couldn’t believe that it had already been four months since he’d lost his dad. He’d spent his entire Spring Break at home with his mother, and though they had avoided touching his dad’s things before, his mother wanted to pack it up over the break. He understood how painful it was to see his dad’s coat next to the door and know that he’d never wear it again. Now, all of his things were in boxes in their attic, except for a few things his mother hadn’t had the heart to put away, like his leather watch that he’d worn every day and his original, bent wedding ring. His parents had gotten married when they were young and all his dad could afford for them were cheap, thin, fake gold bands. On their tenth anniversary, he had surprised her with a new set, one with a diamond this time, which she had cried over it for three days.

       Patrick maneuvered through the hall toward his locker and stopped when he found Brendon standing next to it. Brendon pushed off the wall next to the grungy green lockers and smiled at him tentatively, “hey, Patrick.” He gave Brendon a tight smile in return and busied himself with his locker combination. He felt Brendon shuffle uncomfortably next to him, and he realized that they hadn’t really spoken since their fight in the record store. He had been at the funeral, but Patrick hadn’t been in a place to care about any petty fight they’d had. He threw Brendon a lifeline.

       “What’s up?” Brendon stopped rolling on his heels and stood still.

       “Nothing,” he said quickly, “I just wanted to talk to you.” Patrick got his locker open finally, shoving his books onto the messy shelves and pulling his backpack off of the hook.

       “About what?” he asked, closing the door and throwing his backpack onto his shoulder. He turned to face Brendon, who looked more nervous than he’d ever seen him.

       “About, um,” he hesitated, and Patrick sighed.

       “Look, whatever happened – it’s forgotten, okay?” he pulled the other strap on his bag over his shoulder and hooked his thumbs under the straps. Brendon shook his head rapidly, finding his voice.

       “No, it’s not okay. I was a jackass, and I had no right to say that shit to you. You’re one of my best friends, man.”

       “I know,” Patrick told him, “I’m sorry, too. What I said about you and Ryan… not okay. But I forgave you already, so don’t worry about it.” Brendon was relieved, Patrick could tell.

       “Good,” he said, smiling at him, “I – You have no idea how shitty I felt about it.” Patrick nodded and Brendon suddenly threw his arms around the shorter boy. “If you need to talk or anything,” he said quietly, “I’m around.” Patrick let Brendon hug him for longer than he normally would and slowly put his own arms around Brendon. He was glad for the sentiment, especially since he didn’t have Pete to lean on and his mother was in overdrive, trying to maintain her strong façade for him. The bell rang overhead and Brendon pulled back, squeezing Patrick’s shoulders in one last effort at comfort.

       “I’ll see you later? We’ll hang out one day this week?” Brendon asked him and Patrick just nodded. Brendon gave him one last smile before heading off to class, leaving Patrick standing in the hallway under the prom banner.

\---

       On their last day of school, Spencer was exiting his second to last class when he saw Tyson leaving the boys’ bathroom. He had a bloody tissue tucked up under his nose, and Spencer assumed he’d had a nosebleed, but then Brendon left the bathroom a moment later, rubbing the knuckles on his right hand.

**May 2013**

       When the day of graduation rolled around and he had to get up there and give his speech, Patrick froze. He saw his mother and the empty seat next to her. They’d already bought tickets back in November, and now… he forgot that it would be empty. He stared at that seat until someone coughed loudly and purposefully in the stands, and there was Pete, attentive in a way no one else was. He forced himself to speak, staring at the back wall and not at the empty seat next to him mom.

       After he’d rushed through his speech, Ryan was up to give his, which was even more rushed, but he knew Ryan just hated public speaking. Before he knew it, he found himself back in line and waiting on his diploma, and it was the weirdest feeling. He’d done it. All those years of miserable schooling, gone, and now, what? He was expected to be an adult, a person with career goals and serious relationships and bills, but he still didn’t know how to be a teenager. All of this for a piece of paper? He shook the principal’s hand and moved his tassel to the other side, before leaving the stage and walking straight out the door to wait by his mother’s car.

\---

       “Congratulations,” Brendon approached Ryan cautiously. They were done, graduated, and everyone was standing around outside, saying their goodbyes and taking pictures. It was the last day they had a reason to see each other, and he wanted to leave it on good terms despite still being humiliated from Pete’s party. Ryan pulled his cap off his head and pushed a hand through his hat hair.

       “Thanks, you too. Jon told me that you chose vocal performance at Berkley,” he stared at Brendon’s collar, not really able to make eye contact. After hearing that Brendon had feelings for him, and then learning that he had broken Tyson’s nose a couple days before graduation, Ryan found it harder than ever to be near him.

       “Yeah, Pete talked me into it,” he laughed nervously.

       “Pete’s been trying to get me to switch my major to music,” he nodded, scratching the back of his neck to give his hands something to do. Brendon shuffled his feet, wondering if he should just leave. “What are Pete’s plans? Does anyone know?”

       “No clue. I think he was going to stay in Chicago, but I saw him fill out more than fifteen applications.”

        “Oh.”

       “Yeah.” And then came the silence. Brendon couldn’t speak because he didn’t know what he could say at this point to make anything better. Thankfully Spencer, of all people, saved him.

       “Holy shit! Did you guys see what just happened?” He was breathless, which meant he’d run, which meant that whatever happened, was good. “Okay, so Gabe is coming down the stairs and William is just standing there, and Gabe is like, ‘hey’ and Bill was like, ‘hey’, and then, boom!” he clapped loudly, startling them, “William just grabs Gabe and lays one on him in front of everyone. It was fucking awesome.”

       “Eloquent, Spence,” Ryan said and Spencer punched his shoulder.

       “Dick.”

       “Bitch.”

        “I think I see Jon, so I’ll just -.” Brendon darted away before the other two could respond, and Spencer eyed Ryan suspiciously.

       “What was that?”

       “Nothing.”

       “Didn’t look like nothing,” Spencer grinned at him, “looked like something. Did you thank him for defending your honor?”

       “Seriously, fuck off. We were just talking, no big deal. And who says he was defending me? It’s not like Tyson isn’t a complete jackass. It was probably just a coincidence.” Spencer held his hands up in retreat but the smile never fell from his face. In fact, it only grew when Tyson came out of the auditorium, a butterfly bandage on his nose and two purple circles around his eyes.

**June 2013**

            Patrick was procrastinating, he knew. He needed to pack his room into boxes, load them up in to a moving van, and get the hell out of Chicago, but he was having a hard time leaving his mother. She was all alone now, and while she had taken up multiple hobbies and started hanging out with friends, the wedding band still on her finger proved she hadn’t recovered as much as she claimed. He pushed the door to his house open and found his mother labeling a cardboard box, ‘kitchen’.

            “Mom?”

            “Honey, you’re home! I took the liberty of packing some of your things before the big move! And I bought some kitchenware and some things you may need while you’re there,” she stood, excited, wiping her hands on her jeans. She approached him and wrapped her arms around him, “I am so proud of you. And I know your father is too,” she said, tearing up, but she tried her best to wipe them away before they could fall. “We always wanted the best for you and here you are! I knew you could do it, baby.” She was going to cry and Patrick knew he wasn’t going to handle that well.

            “Mom, I -.”

            “Oh, I almost forgot!” She stepped away from him and pulled an envelope off the coffee table, gathering herself in the process. “Peter and Susan dropped by to give you this. It’s a graduation present.” She smiled and pat him on the shoulder before moving back to packing boxes. Patrick looked at the letter in his hands; it was made of fancy cardstock and his name was written in calligraphy on the front, and there was more than paper inside, judging by the weight and the hard edges he could feel through the paper. He left his mother in the living room while she continued packing like a madwoman and went to see the damage she’d done to his bedroom.

            His bed and furniture were pretty much the only things left unpacked, and he sat down on the mattress, which only donned sheets and looked at the walls, but most of his things that had hung there had already been packed away. It was so easy to make it look like someone had never been there… Turning the letter over, he opened the envelope, pulled out the paper and with it came a set of keys on a single keyring. He eyed them, confused as to why Pete’s parents would be giving him keys.

            _Dear Patrick,_

_Congratulations graduate! We are beyond proud of you and the man you have become. We know you will go on to do great things! Remember that we are always a call away if you need anything.  We are a family and you only have to ask._

_Except in this case. We wanted to give you something that you wouldn’t have asked for or bought for yourself. These three keys are the least we can do to show you how much we love you and how much you will be missed._

_The first key (with the blue topper) is to the cabin. As a member of this family, it is yours, too, and you will need to get away from busy New York sometimes. We hope you can consider this a safety net for when things become rough._

_The second key (with the green topper) is to a small rental studio where we hope you can use that creative mind of yours to make masterpieces.-  It is soundproof, so rock out! We included directions to the space in the envelope._

_And the last key (red) is to your new home. It is a studio apartment with views of the Steinhardt music building and Washington Square Park. Now, don’t be upset and think Peter and I have gone overboard – we know you too well. We own this apartment and bought it many years ago as our first property investment, and it only benefited us. Now, we are investing in you and your future. We have all the faith in the world in you._

_All Our Love,_

_Susan & Peter & Pete_

Patrick was crying, full on, snot, ugly face crying. He couldn’t believe it. This meant that he no longer needed to find a way to pay rent or a place to stay because his family had taken care of him. He looked at their names written at the bottom. Susan’s lovely curling handwriting, next to Peter’s blocky letters, and on the end, Pete’s in the messy scrawl he knew all too well. It felt like too much – it was too much, but they would be insulted if he didn’t accept because they thought of him as their son, and they weren’t doing anything they wouldn’t do for Pete.

            He stuffed the letter back into the envelope and laid it on the bedside table, keys sitting on top. He cleaned his face in the bathroom sink before finally helping his mother pack for his move.

\---

            The day came for Andy’s departure into the Peace Corps, and Joe, Pete, Patrick, and Greta had shown up to say their goodbyes.

            “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s two years,” Pete asked him for the eleventh time.

            “Yes, I’m sure. Hug me or leave now.” Joe darted in front of Pete and hugged Andy quickly, only releasing him when Greta pulled on his shirt.

            Saying goodbye to his best friends was the most difficult things Pete had done in a while. His support system, the people keeping him from insanity, were leaving. Patrick hugged Andy and told him to visit him whenever he got back and to send him weird souvenirs from all the places he worked in. When it was Greta’s turn, the three boys turned to each other, giving them a bit of privacy.

            “When do you leave?” Joe spoke to Patrick and Pete tried not to look too interested.

            “Ryan and I decided to drive up together on Thursday.”

            “Thursday? This Thursday?” Pete couldn’t help but interject, “that’s in two days!” Patrick nodded and Pete failed at trying to remain calm.

            “Oh, I just didn’t know… that.” He felt like an idiot, and Patrick avoided his eyes, staring at Andy’s backpack next to his feet. Joe rocked awkwardly on his feet before leaving them alone to stand with Andy and Greta, realizing quickly that he did not want to be involved in their conversation.

            “Pete.” He looked up and found Patrick was still not looking at him, “I didn’t see you when I came by your house, but I wanted to say thanks. You know, for the graduation gifts…” Pete shook his head rapidly.

            “I didn’t have anything to do with that. My parents -.”

            “I know, but still. Thank you.” Pete sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

            “It’s nothing they wouldn’t have done for me.” Patrick smirked a little as Pete voiced his exact thoughts.

            “Yeah, um, where are you going? I know you applied to a lot of places, but I didn’t know where you got in or anything.”

            “I,” Pete paused, mentally rolling his eyes at himself, “I got in,” he coughed, hating how arrogant he must have sounded, “everywhere I applied, so… I think I’ll stay here, though. Maybe.” Patrick finally looked at him.

            “Everywhere? Pete, you applied to Brown and Stanford.” Pete nodded and coughed uncomfortably again.

            “I guess they’re desperate,” he laughed, self-deprecatingly.

            “No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to sound surprised. I just know they typically only take people with 3.7 and up GPAs.”

            “3.87.” Patrick looked away again, feeling like a complete asshole. “Yeah,” Pete said quietly before walking over to Andy and saying his goodbyes once more.

**July 2013**

            The day for Brendon to ship off to Berkley came and Grandma Urie was a mess. She was so beyond happy for him, but she didn’t want to think of being all alone again. Brendon coming to live with her had been the best thing that could have happened to her, but she knew it was time to let him go. She watched as he dragged his suitcase to the door, preparing for his flight to Boston, and she could feel herself tearing up. Brendon heard her sniffle behind him and he turned to her.

            “No, no, no,” he said quickly, “you can’t cry or I’ll cry.” She waved with her hands, trying to tell him to forget about her ridiculous emotions, but the tears started falling anyway. Brendon moved forward to hug her small frame tightly against him as she cried.

            “I am so proud of you,” she said into his chest, “I love you so much. You have grown into such a wonderful young man.” Brendon squeezed her tighter.

            “I love you more,” he said and she laughed a little, shaking her head because that was impossible. He pulled away so he could see her face, “no, I mean it. You are the reason I’m here. You took care of me and made me feel like I could do anything. I wouldn’t have dreamed I could be where I am right now if it weren’t for you.” She cried harder and slapped his arm.

            “Now, I’ll never stop crying,” she told him and he laughed, eyes shining as he pulled her back into a hug.

            “I’m going to miss you, Grams,” he said, “but not nearly as much as I’ll miss my van.” She laughed heartily at his joke and pulled away from him again.

            “Well, let’s go take one last ride, then. I’ve got to get you to the airport,” she said, moving past him to grab the van’s keys from the table. “Don’t worry,” she said, setting the keys in his hand, “I’ll take care of her while you’re away.”  He smiled and dropped his eyes to the keys in his hand.

            “I’m not worried,” he told her, “she’s a tough lady.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the van, and she had to wipe her eyes before more tears could fall.

            “That’s right,” she moved to the door, holding it open for him, “now come on or you’re going to be late.” He picked up his suitcase and glanced back at the living room again. He already missed the house he’d become a man in. Christmas break, he reminded himself, was not too far away, and he’d be back home.

\---

            Ashlee turned the lights in her office off and shut the door behind her. It was her last day in Wilmington, and she had tearfully told her students goodbye weeks ago. After finishing up the school year, she’d gotten a call from a private performance arts school in northern Illinois where they had an opening for an assistant music teacher at double the pay rate she had now. She’d accepted the unbelievable offer, but as she left the high school for the last time, she felt the pain of her departure. She couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to teach in her first year of teaching, and she was so happy for them all as she watched them go into the world to pursue their dreams.

            She exited the front doors of the high school and saw her boyfriend’s car sitting near the sidewalk, waiting for her to finish up. She walked slowly, though, down the steps and sidewalk to where his car sat. She slid into the passenger seat and her boyfriend immediately reached over and grasped her hand.

            “Okay?” he asked and she nodded, squeezing his hand and looking out the window at the school. He didn’t move for a minute, but finally he cranked the car and pulled out of the school’s parking lot. She watched the school grow smaller in the side mirror and continued to hold her boyfriend’s hand as she said a final silent goodbye to the place where she’d spent her teenage years before returning as a woman. She looked away as the school became nothing but a dot in the mirror, and she leaned forward to turn up the radio.

            Goodbye, Chicago.


End file.
